


The Puppy

by Shivanessa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Slavery, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dubcon, ftm character, ftm leto, trans leto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 02:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivanessa/pseuds/Shivanessa
Summary: Magister Quaerin Danarius, senior enchanter of the Minrathous circle, and senate member of the Tevinter empire, rises to power with achiving what nobody in Tevinter ever had done before: Raising a Lyrium Warrior. Or so he plans. But it is a long way until he will finish his masterpiece.This is the story of trans Leto and his long and hard way to become Fenris.With this story I try to evaluate the characters of Danarius and Leto and how it happened that Leto turned into Fenris, and why Danarius became as ruthless as he is described by Fenris later, which entailed everything that happened afterwards.Don't like, don't read. Like: Leave a comment ;)





	1. Being discovered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovelyGarnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyGarnet/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to LovelyGarnet. Without youre support I wouldn’t be posting this. I have written it two years ago, my first fanfic ever and my first text in English and to be honest, I had worked my ass of for this story. And never posted it. I didn’t think that someone would like it. I feared the Fenris fandom would hate me for it.  
> Now I’m not a part of that toxic group anymore and you know what! I post it now! I love this story and I put all my heart into it. So here it is. For you. Thank you for being you <3

„What is that?“

The question hung in the air like a cloud that could break out into heavy thunder and lightning at any second. Leto froze in place. It was morning and the sun shone through the broad windows of the opulent dressing room.

Magister Quaerin Danarius, senior enchanter of the Minrathous circle, and senate member of the Tevinter empire, was sitting in a high chair in front of him, the gaze of his grey eyes fixed on the elven boy. The chair was – like anything else in his chambers – finely decorated with filigree carvings. Danarius wore a silken towel around his neck, that covered his whole front in order to prevent shaving foam dripping on his morning robes.

Being shaved by the hands of a slave every morning was one of the events that run like a clockwork in Danarius’ home. Today this duty was under Leto’s area of responsibility and he had done his best to not cut his Master accidentally. Normally he wasn’t supposed to attend to Danarius body care since that was the responsibility of the first valet, but Namu was ill and so Leto had to perform the tasks. Fortunately, Namu had been ordered to teach him the basics since Leto was assigned on the attendants of the Magister.

Due to his nervousness it was a miracle that he had not hurt the skin. But after shaving his Masters cheeks the soap dish had slipped from Leto’s hands. It clattered to the floor and soapy water flushed over the marble tiles. Miraculously his Master was in a forgiving mood today, so he had frowned at him and just ordered him to clean up the mess before turning to comb his Masters hair. Leto had thanked the Maker silently and hurried to do so.

Right now, Leto was kneeling on the floor, hastily whipping up the soapy water. Embarrassed about his clumsiness, he did his best to hurry, not noticing that from above his neckline granted his Master a deep insight. He became aware of his mistake when then the question was voiced but then it was too late. ‘What is that?’ His Master expected an answer.

 

In terror, Leto’s gaze followed his Master’s eyes down, suddenly noticing how much of himself was visible. While Leto had been cleaning the tiles, Danarius could perfectly stare at his bare chest.

Only that it wasn’t bare.

The young elf jerked upright, clenching his fist around the collar of his tunic to put it back in place. He felt his cheeks heating up. Danarius watched him with disapproving curiosity, waiting for an answer. When Leto stayed silent he frowned.

“Are you injured?” His Master's voice was quiet but the slave could hear that he was not pleased. Leto wet his lips, staring down at the floor. It was forbidden to lie to Master but he could not…

He feared to tell the truth, but Danarius’ anger he feared even more.

“I’m fine Master” he answered, bowing his head in shame. Danarius sat upright in his seat, glaring at the elf, who was still kneeling on the wet floor, his hands clenching the tunic.

“Then tell me why you are bandaged? I do not remember having ordered a penalty for you!” he demanded with rising anger. The elf flinched.

“No…” he answered, the voice a tiny whisper.

“Put them off,” Danarius ordered, his voice leaving no room for delay or excuses. Leto’s green eyes shot a frightened look from underneath his bangs to the Magister’s face, only just to notice that there was no chance of postponing the matter. The frown crushed his hopes entirely that there would be a way out.

He always had been so careful, why had this happened?

Maybe because he was so happy that his Master hadn’t punished him because of his clumsiness. Ishmael, the head of slaves certainly wouldn’t have given him a pass on that. Therefore, he had been so focused on cleaning the mess so he had forgotten to hide his bindings. And now he had ruined everything.

He knew there was no point in delaying the command. His Master's will was undeniable and there was no chance of escaping this. With trembling fingers, he removed the belt around his waist. After dropping it beneath his tight, he swallowed heavily, but grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled the fabric over his head.

 

__________________________________________________

 

Danarius’ strict gaze travelled over the olive skin of the slave, searching for signs of injuries. He had plans for this boy and he would not let him be hurt by a mindless advisor. Nobody was to touch a servant that attends to his personal matters without being ordered to. If he was to be punished, Danarius would command that himself.

Curiosity took over. Leto had always been cautious when he needed to reach up high and he carefully avoided to get his tunic wet. Sometimes a slave must bow very deep and Leto saw to it he had a hand on his collarbone in order to keep his tunic in place. So, he wore this bandage every day? An inkling rose in Danarius’ mind but he needed to confirm its truth.

“Was I stuttering?!” he demanded harshly when Leto did nothing more than to strip himself from the tunic. The boy’s hands trembled with fear, his whole frame shaking, as he started to unwrap the binding. When it came off, Danarius found his inkling to be true.

Small, but noticeably full breasts were hidden underneath the fabric.

Danarius watched the elf, who seemed to be at the edge of tears. Shoulders slump, hands clenched together in the lap. How old was he again? The magister rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“How long have you lived in my house?” Leto flinched at Danarius voice. He couldn’t look in his Master's eyes since that wasn’t allowed but he blinked from underneath his dark bangs up to him to check on his mood.

“F… five years, Master.” he answered with a tiny voice.

“You’ve been considered a boy ever since, if I’m not mistaken” Danarius stated. Leto bowed his head.

“Yes Master.”

“Is this to your liking?” This time Leto could not prevent to look in his Master's face. His green eyes blinked at the man incredulous before he’d casted his view down again.

“Yes…” he whispered.

“So you are a boy then? Or is it your mother who wishes you to be that?” Danarius asked. Leto seemed to be flabbergasted, but nevertheless he cleared his throat and straightened his back a bit more.

“Yes. I’m a boy. Even if I’m born with… different features, I feel as a male elf. I’ve ever felt that way!” Danarius nodded. Nobody would recognize Leto as a girl since not only his appearance but his behavior was also like a boy’s.

“Put on your bindings then. And your tunic. You may bring me tea after you finished your work here” Danarius said benevolent and closed his eyes, relaxing in his chair again.

Leto breathed deeply, rubbing his eyes. He bowed deeply, his voice thick with a mixture of disbelief and gratefulness.

“Thank you Master…. I… thank you.” Then he did as he was ordered to.

Danarius watched Leto while the slave put together the shaving things.

After Leto had finished his tasks, he sent him away in order to summon the other personal slaves and organize the breakfast, the dressing, and the other tasks involved starting the day for a Magister.

While he was alone, Danarius wandered to the window of his dressing room and looked down. Usually all the windows in a Master's suite would face the gardens or the city of Minrathous to provide a relaxing or interesting view. But Danarius had chosen a bedchamber that overlooked the backside of the building, the working areas, stables, and slave quarters. It filled him with a feeling of control and power to look down on the back courtyard where slaves were working from the early morning till the evening. Dozens of them were doing the laundry, chopping wood, and perform countless other duties, all of them to take care of their Master.

All this was his, every soul in this household was grafting on his behalf. From this place he could oversee the yard from front to back, up to the training grounds of his personal guard. All the property that was appropriate for a magister.

His mind wandered around while he listened to the quiet sounds of the valets setting the table in the private dining room next to his bedchamber. Standing here, he remembered that it had been this very spot, where he had laid eyes on Leto for the first time.

 

________________________________________

 

It had happened a couple of months ago.

That day had been a long one for the Magister, filled with meetings in the senate and discussions about the Qunari war. Danarius felt exhausted after returning to his mansion. His house was currently one of the lower ones in the magisterium and he needed to rise to the challenge of successfully negotiate with the others for maintaining alliances. In this times a man who wielded mighty battle spells was more worthy to the Archon than a magister who gained expertise in preforming rituals with lyrium and due to that Danarius needed to watch his back constantly. But that would soon be part of the past.

Finally at home, the mage relaxed while letting his eyes wander around the courtyard. He reflected about the difficult pieces of his current research. The ritual he was planning had been completed – at least the design was –  with the information he had gathered in the ancient elven ruins of Din'an Hanin. An achievement that had cost him years of efforts and searching.

He always had believed that the old elves had a high amount of wisdom and knowledge regarding all kinds of magic. It had vanished over the ages and to find bits and pieces was a life’s work. But only a few tried to do so. The most of Danarius contemporaries refused to acknowledge the old lore and the power that lied within. Elven were no more than an inferior race to them, why they refused to search for writings and artifacts of Arlathan. But Danarius knew better. When he was younger his peers in the circle had laughed at him for his fascination of those sources of wisdom. They had called him a knife-ear lover and a fool.

‘Let’s see who’ll get the last laugh!’ Danarius thought to himself and smiled.

Next to accomplish was to snatch up that ridiculous amount of lyrium that was needed. Even with all his wealth, it was not easy. The lyrium trade was firmly in the hands of the dwarven merchants and they hesitated to sell such a high amount at once. And even if they did: to buy such a quantity would raise suspicions among the other magisters and that could ruin the fragile balance between him and his ‘so called’ allies. To lose these allies meant to lose influence and become vulnerable. And that was the road to ruin… or even worse, to insignificance. He needed to be patient.

That was not a problem. Danarius was a patient man. He never rushed things. ‘If you do it, do it thorough’ was one of his guiding principles in life. And there was the other problem to solve first: finding a suitable subject to his experiment. An individual with a strong will and a healthy body but loyal without a doubt. This was to be decided very carefully.

So Danarius stood there, weighing the options and the amount of time it would take while his eyes slid over the courtyard. The dawn broke and the slaves returned to their quarters, tired of the day’s work and drudgery. It was summer and had been hot all day, so everyone was quiet on their way to bed, exhausted but thankful that the day was over.

Silence descended upon the estate. Danarius enjoyed these moments of peace when darkness filed the yard like ink dropping into a bowl of water. After a while he decided with a sigh to return to his documents but then he caught a movement from the corner of his eye.

Instantly he thought of assassination – that would not be something unusual in Minrathous. With a slight gesture of his hand, he extinguished the candles on the desk to prevent to be a target for a bolt or arrow and withdrew himself deeper into the shadows. Now, with the light off, he could see more clearly what was going on in the courtyard.

To his surprise he witnessed a slave child sneaking out of the quarters, looking around anxiously. Danarius suspected that he was about to meet with someone. Maybe an assassin, to let him into the main house. This would not be the first time. Danarius eyes narrowed. Should they try to murder him, he was prepared. Somebody did not become a Magister if they let themselves get killed easily.

But the slave did not return with an assassin. He did not return at all.

Danarius waited a couple of minutes. Had the slave fled? He had seemed rather young for that. The Magister considered the options. He could alarm the guards to find out what had happened to the slave. Maybe they caught him with another, coupling behind the training grounds. If so, that would include a beating for the two of them. But what if the slave was truly involved in something crucial?  Then alarming the guards could cause the conspirators to vanish into thin air. To discourage his enemies in the senate it was necessary to not only prevent the attack but presenting the head of the assassins in the public.

Curiosity rose in him and he decided that he wanted to know what the slave was up to. With a small gesture he casted a disguise spell that let his frame blend in completely with the background. Silent as a shadow, his staff in hand, he entered the balcony and looked down out to the courtyard. Gripping the staff firmly with both hands Danarius casted a fade step, that brought him down on the yard. Soundless steps brought him to the training ground that lay in the dark.

His eyes needed a second to adjust to the darkness but his ears caught a quiet rustling in the dirt, accompanied by heavy breathing. Danarius mouth became a thin line. Could his intuition have failed him and there was nothing more going on than two slaves rutting in the dust? Oh, they would regret it if that was the case! He raised his staff, a lightning spell on the tip of his tongue, but now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he was able to see what was truly happening here.

An elven slave, still not matured, stood there, mimicking a warrior pose with an iron staff. The ‘weapon’ was a piece that Danarius had seen other slaves using to stir hot laundry in one of the huge tubs or something like that. It seemed very heavy. The boy could not be older than thirteen or fourteen and his arms and legs were trembling with the effort of wielding the metal like a sword.

He wore the cheap tunic of a kitchen slave, the fabric clinging to his body with sweat. His muscles moved visibly because he had no flesh on his bones but even so he trained with great will and vigor. And he possessed a distinct grace in his movements, almost as if he were dancing and not swinging a household appliance. Virtually soundless the naked feet moved in the dirt of the ground, only a suppressed heavy breathing was audible.

Danarius watched him for a couple of minutes and decided what to make of this situation. Why was a kitchen slave doing that during the night? Unless he was mistaken, these were the servants who got up the earliest and went to bed last.

He chose the direct approach. Often a surprise effect provided the best results. So he ended the disguise spell and lit the crystal ball on top of his staff instead. A dim light suddenly fell on the training ground.

The slave froze in his movement. With wide green eyes he looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

The boy, an elf with dark brown hair and olive skin drank in Danarius’ sight as if he refused to believe what was happening. His heavy panting was the only movement for a couple of seconds. Then the iron dropped, followed by the slave who fell to his knees.

Danarius looked down on the trembling figure and considered what to do. Every second that went by seemed to multiply the panic in the slave but he held himself up. Danarius lips curled slightly. The ways of the old gods where truly unfathomable.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with an even voice. They boy flinched as if he had been slapped, but answered without delay. “I have practiced, my lord”. Danarius shook his head slightly. A kitchen slave so low, that he even didn’t know how to address his owner.

“The word is _Master_.” He scolds mildly. The slave bowed his head low. “I apologize Master. I did not wish to offend”. ‘Unknowing but good mannered for such a poor lad’ Danarius thought. If he was not mistaken, the boy was one of the slaves he had brought back as spoils from the last military campaign on Seheron. His skin and the slight accent indicated that he was born in the north. Then he had been living under the Qun before he became a slave to a magister. That would explain some of the skills he had witnessed. Qunari preferred early training in matters of war.

“So tell me, what do you mean by _practicing_? Have you been ordered to do so?” he continued. The slave cowered violently, clearly expecting the hell to break loose at the very moment. “N… Nobody ordered me. I thought that I could do so in my spare time. Master.”

“I didn’t know that a slave has such a thing like _spare time_. Isn’t all of your time devoted to serve the will of your masters?”

The slave stayed silent but when Danarius didn’t continue he pressed out a small “Yes Master”. He seemed to be fairly certain that his head would end on top of a spear for his transgressions.

“Why is a kitchen slave practicing swordplay? And who taught you the steps in the first place?” the Magister pried further. Slowly the slave was about to break down because of the pressure weighing heavily on him. But he answered nevertheless.

“Nobody taught me, Master. I get up earlier than the others to watch the morning exercise of the guards. And I try to imitate the movements in the evening, when I have finished all my chores. I… I swear that I haven’t neglected any of my work for this. I… I just… I…” he stopped, out of courage.

“What. Tell me.” Danarius ordered. The slave at his feet shook with fear and despair.

“I… I wanted to… become a guard. I hoped that maybe… maybe if I’d be good enough… maybe I could…” he choked out. ‘The breaking point’ Danarius thought to himself.

“You wanted to rise in rank. To become more than you are. Is that so, slave?” Now the boy was broken down to quiet sobs. He nodded, his forehead almost touching the dirt.

“Yes… I’m sorry Master… It was not my place. I… beg your forgiveness…” he whispered, closing his eyes to await the inevitable.

Danarius straightened his back and exhaled through his nose. “Return to your bed. You’ll face the consequences of this behavior tomorrow” he told the slave. Then he turned without a second glance at the kneeling boy and retired to his quarters, already making plans for the other day.

 

________________________________________________

 

When Danarius had discovered that Leto was using the little spare time he had for training swordplay, he had not punished him. Instead he had allowed him to use a wooden training sword, better than his iron staff. He took Leto from the kitchens to let him work as one of his personal servants. That included better cloth and better food. Attending to his Masters wardrobe, shaving him and cleaning his chambers was easy work that left Leto with enough energy to continue his training.

After he had finished his duties of the day he was allowed to improve his skills on the training grounds. Furthermore, Danarius ordered one of the old guards to spend his retirement to teach Leto some moves and tricks. To encourage him, he told him that he would make him a personal guard if he bestowed. The thankfulness in Leto’s eyes burned like a flame.

 

____________________________________

 

Danarius eyes followed the slaves who cleared his table silently. He had been lost in thought during his breakfast, watching Leto attending to his duties as if nothing had happened. That had impressed him the first time they meet. It took a lot to unsettle him and his resolve was something else. He had the strong urge to become more than he was and achieve a better life for himself and his family. Maybe because he had been born free, even if it had been under the Qun. He was a slave for some years now, and even if the submission to his superiors had been engraved in his being thoroughly – there was a bit of free will left in him, a small voice that let him accomplish things other slaves would not dare to even think of; like training swordsmanship on his own.

That he had been living on Seheron was a useful extra. Danarius had discovered that Leto was able to understand Qunlat, even if he only spoke a little, and knew a lot of customs of the enemy. That would make him a valuable counsellor in the future wars. He was a subject that turned out to exceed all expectations.

Danarius smiled to himself. The thing he had discovered about Leto’s bodily nature this morning was something he could take advantage of, like he had of the urge for freedom. With patience and careful ministration, it could be forged into a tool to cement the love and loyalty of this slave to his Master. Fear was a tool to do so too, but it had the side effect that the slave would turn against his Master when he could feel safe – an open door for an opponent to intervene. But a slave who was devoted to his Master because of thankfulness and affection would be a valuable thing regarding his plans.

In this regard Leto turned out to be a much better subject than expected. A God-given coincidence, but Danarius would not turn it down.

Danarius was aware of the careful looks Leto gave him. Clearly the boy was wondering if there was anything to expect from the previous events. But since Danarius continued his morning routine without even a word in his direction, he relaxed visibly.


	2. A tempting offer

Leto’s life continued as if nothing had happened. Neither the head of slaves nor his mother where asked about him and nobody was questioning Leto himself. After a few days he calmed down. It seemed that Danarius was not interested in how a slave was build or which gender role he claimed for himself. His Master again had been more than kind and Leto dared not to disappoint him so he tried even harder to accomplish all his tasks to full satisfaction.

The sun was about to set. Everything in Danarius chambers was prepared for the night. The bed was made, Danarius already had had dinner and bathed. Now he was wearing his silken nightgown, sitting in front of the open window to let the evening breeze cool his skin, while he read a book about magic theory. From time to time he tipped against the chalice holding white wine. Every time he did, at thin layer of ice formed on the outside of the glass, keeping the content pleasantly cool.

The Magister had sent the other two personal slaves away earlier. Only one servant was needed during these peaceful evening hours. Lately this slave always had been Leto. The others already rumored that their Master had picked a favorite and Leto was aware that some of them frowned upon him.

Especially Namu wasn’t pleased with the development since he was a highly trained valet and Leto had been nothing but a kitchen-help before. It made Leto sad that the other boy seemed to despise him now because he had looked up to him since Namu had taught him the basics of being a valet. Somehow it had been like having an older brother who corrected him much more kindly than Ishmael or the head of the kitchens would. But now the relationship had cooled down a lot.

Since Danarius never had chosen a pet before, every slave in the household was curious what that would imply. Would Leto be granted special treatment? Every slave knew stories and hearsays about a favorite pet of a Magister who rose to real power within the household. Would Leto become such a paramour, treasured by his Master and made a noble among the slaves? Or was Leto only a tempting plaything for a short period, until his Master returned to his study as his only passion?

Leto himself kept quiet about what was happening or not between him and the Magister and tried to keep away from rumor and allusion. Since the Magister did not approach him in any kind of way outside the usual he relaxed, tried to keep his head low, and to ignore the whispers behind his back. Only that he was not able to talk to Namu was something that made him a little sad.

Nevertheless, he asked himself why Danarius seemed to enjoy his company so much. He had nothing to offer to a learned and sophisticated man. Sometimes the Magister asked him about his training, but most of the time Leto accompanied him silently.

After everything was done and prepared this evening, Leto was ordered to sit on a silken pillow beside his Masters side table where the light and the refreshments were placed. Maybe Danarius enjoyed to look at him, but most of the time, his eyes were fixed on his readings.

He knew vaguely what the others assumed of his tasks during the evening but since Leto had kept away from every form of dalliance because of his particular body condition, he had no real idea of it. His mother had never spoken of things like that and Leto felt a bit like a late bloomer since he hadn’t had any possibility to try because of his worries of being discovered. But since his Master had found out and nothing bad had happened…

„…“ Leto froze. His Master had said something and he hadn’t heard! He bowed his head ruefully and hoped he hadn’t missed something important. “Excuse me Master?” he whispered slightly breathless, his eyes fixed on a place on the Magisters shoulder.

Danarius looked at him quietly for a couple of seconds. He had put the book in his lap, his legs crossed, marking his page with a finger.

“You seem to be… distracted lately.” He gestured to his empty glass and raised his brow. Leto bowed his head even deeper, his cheeks heating up suddenly.

“I… I apologize, master!” he hurried to fill the chalice, internally wincing about his stupidity. How could he allow his thoughts to drift away like that! This was huge misstep! He needed to focus!

But it was so hard with nothing to do for such a long time. He used all his willpower to not fidget, because that would disturb his Masters’ readings. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering around.

 

__________________________________

 

Because of joining his Masters side, Leto finished his last chores later in the evening than previously. Most of the days he needed to hurry to leave for his training. Today it was much later than usual when he left because he helped his Master getting dresses for a dinner party in the Archons palace. All the preparations had taken a lot of time and after Danarius left Leto had to prepare the bed for his return. Now it was already darkening and he worried that his tutor Marius had left the courtyard to finish his day.

Leto gave the bedroom a quick look to check that everything was in order for his master’s return and then turned to leave for his training. Crossing the door to Danarius’ living room however he came to a sudden halt and his heart almost lost a beat. He could hear Marius voice, quiet and shy, speaking with the magister!

Leto wet his lips and approached the ajar door with great care. Danarius, clad in his best garments, was indeed talking to a very humbly Marius. The old guard seemed more than unsettled, being summoned to the private chambers and spoken to by the Magister himself.

Leto pressed himself on the wall, trying to breathe evenly. Why would his Master bother himself to speak to Marius? Why, if not because of him? Could it be because of the incident two weeks ago, when he had discovered that Leto was different to other boys? His gut clenched at the thought. Maybe he was asking the guard if Leto was capable of fighting at all, now that he knew about his _condition_. But if, why had he waited so long? Was it because of his inattentiveness the other day? ‘Please Maker, please not…’ Leto prayed silently. It was not possible to eavesdrop anything and Leto had no other choice than to leave and prepare for his training.

Later he approached Marius on the courtyard with slow steps and bowed head. The old man looked at him without saying a word. Leto waited for him to speak, his heart pounding in his chest, anxiously that everything would come to an abrupt end. But when nothing came he raised his head. Marius frowned at him. “You’re late. Pick up your sword.” Leto was sure that the man was about to say something different but he dared not to ask and started his training.

 

___________________________

 

Except the rare occasions when he was holding a party, Danarius preferred to eat alone in his private chambers. Leto and two other slaves formed the personal attendant of Danarius everyday needs, ready to fulfill every wish before it was even voiced.

To attend to Masters wishes meant to work silently and efficient. The magister was known for his strict view towards lazy or clumsy servants. Leto had seen him throwing a minor lightning spell at Coru when he had forgotten to bring a napkin with the dinner and so he considered himself very lucky that he had not gotten one when he had dropped the soap dish the other day.

Danarius accepted only young and handsome servants in his personal surrounding, the same way he preferred finely crafted furniture and noble garments. Only the finest fabrics and foods were good enough for a man of his status and like highly priced birds and dogs, the servants attending to his personal belongings and needs were perfectly drilled.

Leto had been nervous the whole day. He knew that something was going on, but he was not able to point out if it would be good or bad for him. He tried hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand in order to not make another mistake in front of his Master. It was often difficult since he had not received years of training and struggled every day to keep everything necessary in mind. He often felt Danarius eyes on him during that day which made Leto try even harder.

The others were nervous too. Everybody noticed that there was a tension lying underneath the situation, even if none of them could point out what it was. Namu stood still next to his Master’s chair, waiting for the slightest gesture for more wine, more food, somebody to fan cool air or anything Master might need.

Because of the fact that he was two years older than the other two he had the highest rank among the three of them and was responsible for the most honorable duties. He was the one who helped their Master with dressing and in the baths, a position granted only to the most loyal slaves. Leto and Curo, who were nearly of the same age, were preparing everything his Master might need when he finished his meal: his bed, a glass of spiced wine, a silken robe to wear at the evening.

The very second Danarius left his napkin on the plate, Namu bowed. Danarius rose from his place to walk over to the chaise while Leto and Curo started to clean the table immediately. Danarius disliked anything messy, so the slaves knew to hurry to clean his sight. Leto filled a tray with the used plate, glass, and cutlery to bring it down into the kitchen. The boy’s mouth wetted when he looked at the leftovers. The personal slaves were allowed to consume them later – a gift for the special servants of the Master. But the food was forgotten when he heard his Master’s voice.

“All of you… leave. Except Leto. You may come here.” With a thoughtless gesture of his hand Danarius lit the candles next to him for more light and sat down on the embroidered chaise. Namu casted a quick look in Leto’s direction but Leto avoided his gaze. He knew the other boy was assuming that Leto would warm his Masters bed and be granted countless favors for it. It was usual for a magister to have one or more handsome slaves of the same gender to accompany them and Namu’s position was likely to include such responsibilities.

Actual relationships with the same gender amongst nobles were considered against good taste and irresponsible regarding rank and family duties and because of that inacceptable. But even more forbidden was to bed a slave of the opposite gender. It was disgusting and barbaric for a citizen of status to fulfill sexual needs with a slave when the possibility of pregnancy existed. The possibility of a half breed child must be avoided at all costs because if the child would have magic abilities this could be enough to be considered an heir! And no magister would like a slave’s child – a knife ear at worst – as his heir. On the other hand, fulfilling sexual needs with a slave of the same gender was to be encouraged and a sign of sophistication and status.

Namu and Curo left the room, their heads bowed, carrying the tableware carefully. Leto was left behind. He turned to Danarius direction and bowed because he was not sure what was expected of him. Danarius pointed to a place on the floor next to his chaise.

“Come. Sit with me” he ordered, his voice friendly. Leto did as he was told and held his gaze directed to the floor. His Master took place on the lush embroidered chaise, Leto on the floor next to him, sitting on his heels.

“I spoke to Marius…” Danarius began and Leto felt cold. “…he told me that you make progress. That you have a strong will and a well-trained body… for a kitchen slave”. His words hang in the air with a hook at the end. Leto stayed silent. He wasn’t ordered to speak so he remained quiet. Danarius continued undisturbed. “But he was suggesting that you’re not able to use your full potential. Something I’ve observed for myself.” Danarius long, with expensive rings decorated fingers caressed the glass.

Leto’s shoulders tensed. Was that it? Was Danarius cutting of his training because of his secret? Was he to be send back to the kitchens, never able to rise from that status to become more than the lowest of the low? His lips became a thin line while he fought to keep his eyes dry, waiting for his Master to continue.

“Marius does not know of your… special habit of dressing. But he said that he’s under the impression that you are not able to move freely. Stretching your chest to take breath, moving full range is something you seem to be not capable of”. He paused. “These are necessary moves for a two handed warrior”. Leto nodded once. He felt the door closing in front of him and he wished his Master would stop telling him the details. He was handicapped and not worth to be a warrior in Danarius services. He wished he could leave and be done with it.

“It’s because of the bindings. The impede you. You will never be a warrior if you keep them” Danarius finished his conclusion. Leto nodded once more. Again his body was a handicap to him. His whole life he had had to be careful around others, hide parts of himself to avoid being discovered. Since his breasts had started to grow he had to be even more careful if he would not reveal himself and be forced to wear a dress, to do women’s work, to be paired up with a guy to bear children. He knew that the bindings limited his ability to breathe and hurt like hell when he was doing his training but they had been necessary.

“So. What do you intend to do?”

Leto’s head snapped up. Again he looked in his Master’s face before he came to senses and casted his look down to Danarius shoulder.

“W… what do you mean, Master?” he asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Well. You could accept your features and wear a breastplate instead of the bindings. But sooner or later everybody will discover. You’ll be known as a _female_ bodyguard... a rather strange and barbaric concept. Or…”

Leto hesitated to breathe, his whole body tense. “Or…?”

Danarius smiled at him, tilting his head slightly.

“Or I could remove them. The body parts you do not need”.

Leto’s eyes grew wide. Was that possible? Was his Master joking with him? Or… He blinked, swallowing the lump that has grown in his throat.

“Is... is this possible?” he asked hesitantly and shy.

Danarius shrugged his shoulders as if he wanted to say that he was capable of everything, even wonders. “Why not? Your shoulders are wide so you already have a manly frame. Breasts and hips should be easy to change. It’s just flesh”.

Leto needed a second to understand what his Master had said. The second he managed to put together what he had heard he fell down to his Master’s feet. He pressed his forehead to the floor, his fingertips touching his Master’s toes slightly, a sign of deepest devotion and gratitude.

“Thank you! Thank you Master. I… I don’t know what to say or how to make up for it… but… I’ll do anything. Thank you so much!” Danarius cut of his rambling with a slight gesture.

“Don’t worry. There will be plenty of possibilities to show me how grateful you are” he smiled down at Leto and the boy felt his heart melt into happiness.

 

____________________________________________

 

After some days of research Danarius called Leto into his study. He ordered him to undress in front of a full length mirror to take a close look at the young slave’s upper body. Leto felt ashamed with his breast naked in front of his Master but the feeling vanished when Danarius touched his skin, his hands glowing with magic.

With a simple spell he managed to reduce the female features, slowly melting the flesh under the skin, making the parts smaller, less rounded and outstanding. Leto watched stunned how his Master reduced the breasts until there where only flat pieces of skin hanging down. It took several minutes to do it properly but it didn’t hurt and after the process only muscles and skin were left. It was a miracle.

After that Danarius ordered Leto to undress completely. It seemed that the magister didn’t want to do things halfhearted. The slave obeyed hastily, curious what the magister planned for the next step. He almost felt numb with the wonders that were happening to him under his masters hands.

Leto’s hips hadn’t been very wide, he ever had – thanks to the Maker – a boyish frame. Danarius casted the spell on the upper parts of the tights and beside each hipbone, to reduce the flesh there. Leto watched his Masters’ face. The man’s expression was focused and intense, like a scientist doing an experiment. Leto recognized a silver strand gracing the brown hair on each temple. Suddenly a strange feeling stirred in his belly. Wetting his lips, Leto looked away from his Masters face, then starring at him was not appropriate at all.

While standing in front of the mirror, Leto could watch his flesh melt away, leaving just empty skin behind. Joy flushed through him at the sight of his changing body. He never thought that something like this could be possible and his heart was full of gratitude for his Master. But then his cheeks started to burn when suddenly Danarius fingertips creeped down from his lower belly to the small hill between his legs. For a short second Leto was wondering if Danarius would cast another spell to grow him a penis – a thing he never dared to dream of – but that seemed not to be his intention. When Danarius touched him there, his breath hitched.

He tried to calm himself, called himself lucky that his Master seemed to have the intension to alter his body perfectly. But the feeling of his Masters hand was suddenly something strange and irritating. His fingers lay just an inch above the most sensitive part of Leto’s body and the boy held his breath nervously. But nothing else was done than what had already happened to his other body parts.

After reducing the pubis, Danarius withdrew his hand, checking the outcome of his efforts. He seemed to be satisfied and Leto was relieved. To take care of the loose skin parts Danarius gave Leto a potion he should apply twice a day. The breast must be bandaged to help to withdraw the skin but that was something that Leto was used to.

His Master seemed to be exhausted after casting all that magic and sent him away, so Leto left quietly after thanking him and bowing deeply. He never had been happier in his entire life.

 

____________________________

 

The next couple of days Leto felt like in a haze. He wasn’t able to believe what was happening to him. Every evening when he unwrapped his chest the lose skin had disappeared a bit more and his form had become more male. His fingers grazed over the skin and his mind tried desperately to comprehend what was happening. A small part of him feared that it was just a dream, a waking fantasy that would vanish sooner or later. But it appeared to be true and the more he realized it the more he felt light. It was as if a heavy weight has been taken from him that had been pressing him down for years – so long that he didn’t even recognize it until it dispersed.

The people close to him noticed a change in his mood and behavior. Leto had always been cautious around others and some kind of rude in order to keep them at bay. During the week his attitude seemed to lighten a bit and he even found himself throwing a joke on his fellow servants. His little sister Varania was delighted with the changing mood of her brother but his mother glanced at him with caution and concern when she met him in the slave quarters. Leto ignored it, because he was way too happy with the developments.

Danarius truly had granted him a gift of inestimable value.

 

__________________________________

 

A week later Danarius gaze lingered over the curves of Leto’s naked body. He ordered him to his study again in front of the mirror, to check on the modifications. Standing behind him, Danarius’ long, slim fingers touched the olive skin slightly, gliding down from the collar bone to the nipple. The magister had kept his word. Leto’s flesh was firm and flat except the muscles that shaped his frame. The soft mass of two female breasts which had been there until a week ago was gone. Even his nipples had changed their place, now appearing like he had seen on other men. It was a miracle.

Danarius pressed a bit into the flesh to check its firmness and flexibility. He hummed satisfied, focused on his task at hand.

“How is it to move the arm?” he asked, pulling slightly on Leto’s arm to let him lift it.

“Fine, Master. I can move freely” Leto replied while Danarius was observing the movement of the muscles underneath the skin.

He let Leto do some more movements to examine the wellbeing of his breast, touching and stroking the flesh with a curious expression. Leto felt more and more restless but did his best to not show. The soft caress of the fingers irritated him in a strange way he was not able to grasp fully. The man was so close, he could feel his breath and it made him shiver slightly.

“How sensitive is the skin? Has that changed?” he asked, the eyes fixed on Leto’s body.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Master. I feel no difference”. Even if everything would be numb and dead, Leto would prefer it that way instead of having breasts. Danarius raised an eyebrow. He pinched Leto’s left nipple.

The elf gasped and twitched slightly, surprised.

“It seems that you do feel.” Danarius murmured. His fingers rubbed the nipple softly until it grew hard.

Leto’s face heated up. He could watch his body’s reaction in the mirror. Danarius, standing behind him, was looking over his shoulder. His other hand started to caress the other nipple too. Leto’s breath caught and he suppressed the urge to squirm. Suddenly it was like his Master was hugging him and caressing him in a more than medically necessary way. The heat he felt, started to spread through his entire body.

“Do you feel that?” Danarius asked, focused on the dark skin between his fingers, squeezing it a little.

“Y… yes Master” Leto replied breathless. He felt a strange feeling rising in his guts and wished Danarius would stop the treatment he was giving him.

“How does it feel. Describe it” Danarius ordered with a quiet voice. His breath stroke softly over Leto’s ear which made the elf shiver even more.

“I… it feels strange. I can feel it… in my belly” he answered, closing his eyes, feeling helpless in his Master’s soft grip.

“In your belly? How is that?” Danarius asked, one hand sliding down over Leto’s stomach.

“I… I don’t know… I… uh… it tingles… down into my belly” he tried to explain the strange sensation, becoming more and more embarrassed. Danarius other hand too withdrew from his nipples and even if he was relieved, Leto felt a strange kind of loss.

“So, your chest seems to be fine. How are your hips?” Danarius asked and stroked the skin there with gentle fingers. Leto replied that he feels fine. The flesh there had perfectly fitted the next morning after the spell. Danarius seemed to find that too and his fingers left the hip alone.

Instead one of his hands slid down between Leto’s legs.

The slave took in a sharp breath, tensing. He could feel Danarius fingertips on his folds, and even if they lay there perfectly still, it felt like they were on fire. He dared not to move, holding his breath, eyes wide in the mirror.

“I’m not sure if there’s a way to change that part of yours…” Danarius said, as if he was talking to himself. “It is easy to remove but complicated to build new flesh… especially if it should be… functional”. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin as if the mage was lost in thought. Leto tried to hold still, squeezing his eyes shut. The tingling sensation was back, making him feeling uncomfortable and tense. He barely was able to concentrate on his Master’s voice.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Leto opened his eyes, searching for his Master’s. His gaze found them in the mirror. He felt his checks burning with shame.

“What do you mean?” he whispered. Overwhelmed and confused with all the feelings, he forgot to address his Master properly. Danarius smiled like a wolf. His finger caressed the skin between the tights a bit more. Leto twitched and a small moan escaped him.

“Touched yourself here. For your pleasure. Or do you despise this part of your body that much that you refuse to touch it?”

Leto’s head swam. His mouth was dry. He felt so hot and confused. “N… no I… I never touched… except I’m bathing. I… uhh…” Danarius other hand had started to caress the nipple again. Leto felt heat burning in his whole body. This was wrong. This was not about helping him to change into a boy completely anymore. This was… this was…

“You should touch yourself from time to time my dear. And even if you wish your body would be of a different shape… this down here will never change”. One of his fingers slid between the folds. Leto’s body jolted as the fingertip touched his clit. Another helpless moan escaped him.

Danarius continued, his voice calm as if they would be sitting next to each other, without all that touching. While he talked, his finger rubbed small circles on Leto’s pearl. “Yes, this is it. This down here is you little dick. It’s made the same way like other dicks. A foreskin…” a second finger slid between the folds, both of them now caressing the clit, rubbing it between them. “… and a very sensitive tip.” Leto’s head fall back on his Master’s shoulder. He lost his mind, just able to feel the fingers of his Master on his nipple and between his tights. He moaned helpless without noticing that he spread his legs for his Master to gain more excess. Danarius watched him, pleased with the way Leto gave himself away into the touch.

Unexpected and uncontrolled lust boiled in Leto’s guts, a feeling of tension building quickly between his legs. And like an elastic string stretched to quick, to rapid, to unexpected, the tension clipped suddenly. The elf gasped, his body jerking, bowing into the touch, a strange clenching and jolting deep between his tights that made his whole frame shiver and tremble.

When his body came to rest, he hung in his Master’s arms, gasping, unable to move the slightest bit.

Danarius was gentle, holding him until he came back to his senses. Then he withdrew from him, taking his hands away, smiling to himself. Leto blinked and turned slowly on shaking legs. He felt that he had to say something, but he couldn’t think of something appropriate. He managed to whisper a low “Master…” and bowed his head, his cheeks hot and his eyes teary. Danarius turned his back on him and strode to his desk to sit down.

“It seems that everything is fine”. He said with neutral voice and took a quill. “You’re dismissed”. Leto, still slightly out of breath, slipped in his clothes as quickly as possible, bowed and left the room, his head swimming with confusion.

 

___________________________________

 

Danarius watched the door that Leto had closed behind him. That had been… good. He could not deny, that he was aroused. Something about this slave was exciting.

Danarius never had been a man who put personal feelings over his plans but this dallying could be joyful nevertheless. At least the fish bit and it wouldn’t take a long fight until he had him completely. Loyal and devote. The perfect material to be bend under his will and to guard him with his life. But there was much to be done before it could happen.

He went back to his desk, where letters and documents where pilling up. Tracking down new sources of lyrium wasn’t easy and he had to draw on every possibility he was capable of. His brow furrowed as he took the quill and started to write a new inquiry to one of his business associates in the south.

 

___________________________________

 

Leto had skipped his dinner and returned to the slave quarters early in the evening. During the day he had done his best to not think about what had happened in his Masters’ study. It was unsettling enough, that since then he could insistently feel his private parts. It was like they had ben awoken somehow, constantly reviving themselves to him. He had never felt like that before and he was yearning for a quiet place to calm down and think about what had happened.

Five to seven slaves of the same gender shared one of the small rooms in the quarters, which were equipped with nothing more than bedrolls, some chests to store clothe in, and a heart. Families had their own rooms in another building, but when a child turned twelve years, it was accommodated to a sleeping room with the others.

In the beginning it had been difficult for Leto to adjust to these settings, his Mother and Sister housed in another building and he himself with a bunch of men he didn’t know very well. But they paid him and his unusual habits no mind and so he accustomed slowly to his new life. It went fine, but among them, some privacy was only possible before the group returned after the last meal.

Instead of an empty room, he found his mother in the quarters. She was cleaning the tiles where the bedrolls lay during the night. When he entered she looked at him and he could see worry in her eyes. He tried to get past her to reach one of the rear rooms to be alone but she called out to him.

“Leto…” His mother’s voice was quiet, but it went through and through. He turned around to face her. His eyes sliding over her tired face, the grey strands in her red hair and the raw skin on her hands. She approached him and touched his cheek. She always was worried for him.

“Leto. You’re early. Has something happened?” She asked, searching his face. He looked away. “No mother. Master send me to rest early to do my training properly tomorrow” he lied. She didn’t believe it.

“I’m worried… he calls you to his chambers very often lately.” She paused, searching his face. “Is he…“ Her voice died out, unable to vocalize her suspicion. Leto hated how his cheeks suddenly heated up. His master hadn’t touched him like that before. And even today, it had been only to his benefit, to alter his body into a boy’s. He had decided to ignore the strange feelings that had accompanied the examination since his Master obviously had had no benefit from the situation. He knew that Curo and Namu were talking behind his back about the ‘new duties’ he seemed to have. But there was nothing like that. His Master was a kind man. And today that had been… something else!

“I don’t know what you mean” he answered firmly. “Everything is fine. He’s just interested in my training.” He tried to get away, but his mother grabbed his wrist, her face full of concern.

“Leto. If he finds out that you are…” she began but he cut her off.

“That what? That I’m not build in a way somebody would expect of a boy? He already knows that!” His mother grew pale. Her eyes filled with tears because she imagined her fears had become reality. Leto pressed his lips together. To her he was nothing more than a victim, like she and Varania. Victims of war, victims of Tevinter, always helpless and torn. But he refused to feel and behave that way!

He wanted more in life than this and he risked much for it. Somehow the Maker had listened and send Danarius out in the courtyard that night, to recognize Leto’s talent. And now, that he had discovered Leto’s condition he had not discarded him but encouraged him, changed him, gifted him with this new body!

In the Magister’s household he had been viewed as a boy ever since. Because he had been a child when they were brought to the main land, no guard had been interested in him and somehow he had managed to hide himself from them.

He hadn’t understood when he was young but later he learned that it had been the Master who had invaded their village with his troops, in order to defy the Qunari invasion on Seheron. His mother and her children had been allowed to become part of his household since she had been willing to submit under Tevinter order and law immediately. So she had been spared the humiliation to be sold on a market and could take care of her children.

Once the terror of war and enslavement had been over, his mother had sought to go back to a steady life. Only with constant begging he had prevented her from spilling his secret, but obviously she did it mostly because she feared to be punished for hiding her _son’s_ secret. But she never understood.

He stepped back, watching her face, full of confusion and embarrassment for the quirks of her child. She had endured so much with becoming a slave and be forced to work in a household of a Magister, the man who had invaded her hometown and killed so many Vidathari. And all Leto was capable of was to multiply her burden. She had shown that in many different ways, always evoked feelings of guilt and shame. It was only her weakness in will that made her keep the secret. She would never accept the way he chose to life.

Something in him snapped. With a swift gesture he pulled his tunic over his head and let it fall down.

His mother stared at his chest. His unbound, male chest. With a shout she clasped her hand over her mouth. “Leto… Leto… no…” she cried, trying to catch his wrists again. He refused, stepping back further. What had been done to him by the Master was – thanks to the Maker – irreversible.

“ _He_ did that. And _I_ wanted it. Do you understand? This is what I want” he exclaimed, gesturing at his chest. His mother was utterly shocked.

“What have I done. Leto, what have I done to you…” Tears were streaming over her face and finally he felt sympathy for her. Slowly he approached and laid his hands on her shoulders.

“Mother… please. You did nothing to me.”

She shook her head violently.

“If I had not disguised you as a boy when they came for us… If I had not confused you like that. But I wanted to shield you. They did horrible things to the girls. Varania was to young but you… They… I…”

It was true. When the Tevinter troops had approached the village on Seheron his mother had cut his hair and masqueraded him as a boy. And that prevented that the things that happened to all the other women included him. But how could he explain to her, that he had felt like that before? How could he make her understand, that he had loved his hair short because he had felt since he was very young that he was male? It had not been difficult for her to disguise him, because he always had craved for waring trousers instead of skirts, behave like a boy instead of a girl.

“Mother… please believe me. I want it that way. I’ve… always been like that. And nothing will change it.”

Now it was on her to take a step back. Her wet eyes narrowed and looked at him as if he had betrayed her. She slapped his hand away.

“I promise you, he’s not doing this just to make you _happy_! He would want something in return! Magisters are like that!”

Leto’s expression cooled. He looked her straight in the eye, his voice clear and unfaltering.

“And I will give it to him gladly.” Then he turned around and left his mother behind.


	3. The next step

Leto tried to focus but it was hard. Danarius sat at his desk, writing something, while Leto stood next to him, waiting for orders. When the man was doing research, he grew impatient if he needed something like new parchment or ink, a cup of tea, or a quiet melody played on the harp. Because of that it was one of the duties of his personal attendants to be constantly available during his study. One of them was sufficient, so Leto stood alone in the book-filled room and waited. It was a task that was based on endurance, because he had to stay still and silent to not disturb his Master. Normally it would be not too hard, but today Leto was distracted.

His eyes laid on Danarius while he wrote one line after another. Leto’s thoughts lingered on those hands, who had touched him in such confusing ways. A part of him had anticipated that his Master would want more – something his mother had hinted at and that the others already were assuming. But during the following weeks everything was like usual. He attended to his duties and Danarius did what a Magister does. Nothing happened.

Leto bite his lips. He could feel his sweet spot between his legs like a small glowing pearl. What had his Master called it? His ‘little dick’? A shiver ran down his spine. He knew he shouldn’t be doing it, but when he awoke this morning nobody else in the room had been awake. It had been very early and Leto had felt… aroused. His dream haunted him, where he had been back in Danarius study, naked in front of the mirror, his Masters hand between his tights. And before he could realize what he was doing, his own hand slipped between his legs. He caressed himself, exploring the new sensation, until his body had jolted on his bedroll.

And it hadn’t been the first time.

‘What have you done to me?’ he asked his Master soundlessly, wetting his lips. It had been here in this room. There was the mirror and Leto could almost see himself standing there, enwrapped in his Masters arms, shivering. He hadn’t wanted it but now he could not stop thinking about it.

Leto froze. His Master was watching him in the mirror.

Why had he not noticed that the writing had stopped?! Leto could see how his face became flaming red, give away the inappropriate thoughts he had had a minute ago. His Master raised a brow. Leto casted his eyes down, swallowing.

He heard the quill being placed in the inkwell and the quiet creaking of the wooden chair when Danarius put back to watch him directly. The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking quietly. A soft sigh of his Master made Leto’s heart hammer in his chest.

“You’re staring at me…”

“I apologize,” Leto gasped. “I had no intention to offend.” The lump in his throat made it hard to breath. Danarius watched him silently.

“What is on your mind?”

Leto felt like his skin was on fire. Not only his head must have been glowing red by now but his entire body. He never had been so ashamed in his life. How could he ever voice what he had been thinking about?! But there was no possibility of denying an answer. He swallowed roughly.

“I… I was… thinking about the day you examined my… my chest. After you were so gracious to alter my appearance…” he stuttered, hoping that would be enough. Danarius watched him with a calm, unreadable face.

“And…?” he demanded not unfriendly.

Leto begged to the Maker to open the floor and swallow him whole. His body trembled with embarrassment. Deep inside of him he knew that the Magister _knew_ what he had been thinking.

Leto kept silent. He couldn’t tell that! He couldn’t! The look of his Master was a pressure that seemed to weight more and more each second. He opened his mouth, closed it, wetted his lips, opened it again. Finally, he managed to produce a tiny voice while his entire being wanted nothing else than to vanish into thin air.

“I thought… about the way… you were touching me that day.” Another pause. Danarius was clearly waiting for him to make any sense. How patient was this man?! Leto couldn’t take it anymore. His determination crumbled to nothing before his Masters eyes. As if pressed down by his own embarrassment he fell to his knees, his hands on the floor, the head bowed low.

“I apologize Master! I should not think something like that! Dirty thoughts like that… But I couldn’t help myself! Since you touched me, it goes on and on in my head…!” he babbled erratically.

Another couple of minutes ticked by. Leto kneeled on the floor, shivering in shame and anxiety, his forehead almost pressed to the carpet. Then his Masters voice passed his ears.

“Rise.” Seconds went by until Leto found the strength to do so. Pushing himself to his feet, he remained on shaking legs, hands firmly intertwined, his head bowed. Something in him became easy, as if the confession had ended the pressure. The worst had already happened, there was nothing left more shameful.

His master held out his hand. Leto watched it unbelieving. His Master had touched him during the application of magic, but Leto would never have expected such an informal contact like taking his hand. Even when he performed his duties in shaving and combing, Leto had always been careful to avoid direct contact to his Masters skin, had always used a shaving blade, a brush or a comb. To touch his fingers seemed very much… intimate.

Hesitantly he reached out and brushed his fingertips over his Masters. Slid his hand into his. Stepped a bit closer. Gently Danarius guided him to the table until Leto stood with his back to the wooden desk, his behind pressing against it, almost between his Masters knees. If his face wouldn’t already have been completely red, it surely would flush now. He looked down on his Masters calm face, his head spinning.

“My touch bewildered you?” Danarius asked with a friendly voice. Leto felt tears brimming in his eyes. He felt so helpless, so full of emotion he could not sort, let alone understand. His Masters calm became an anchor in a troubled sea of feelings.

He nodded. Danarius watched him, considerate but indecipherable.

“Show me… where did I touch you that unsettled you so.”

Leto swallowed.

His shaking hand moved slowly to his chest, touching the fabric of the tunic slightly. He closed his eyes, shivering, when his fingers brushed downward, over his taut belly. His breathing shook almost sobbingly when he continued, hesitantly reaching lower, until his fingers rested on his crotch.

He sighed shakily, waiting for his Masters command, feeling a strange kind of detachment. All that was heard was his hitching breath and the ticking of the clock, until his Master spoke.

“Put your pants down.”

There was nothing left in him to protest or resist the soft order. All of him was reduced to a flustered whit of submissiveness, his Masters voice all that was left in his awareness. Slowly he hooked his thumbs behind the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down. The thin fabric fell to the floor without a sound.

The tunic still shielded his private parts form the view but nevertheless Leto felt exposed. His eyes stayed shut but his breath calmed. He had given all of the control to his Master. There was nothing left to be feared since it was utterly out of his grasp now. He let himself fall.

“Lay back.”

Leto obeyed, stretching himself out on his Masters desk, the sheets of paper rustling under his back. He felt Danarius fingers on the hollow of his knees, gently pushing them up, until the boy’s feet sat on the armrest of his chair. Leto’s breath hitched when the hands wandered from his knees to the upper parts of his tights, slowly sliding up the hem of the tunic.

Leto’s mouth opened slightly. His heart hammered in his chest. Now he was exposed to the look of his Master. Seconds went by. He licked his lips, waiting tensed.

Danarius smoothly moved forward. Leto felt the prickle of his beard on the sensitive spot between his tight and his crotch. Danarius touched the hairless skin with his lips, not much more contact than a breath. Leto shivered gasping but did not flinch or hide from the touch. His entire being seemed to be focused on that barely noticeable tangency, as if his feelings were consisted through a burning lens.

His Masters mouth slowly wandered to the center. It was still sealed, the folds neatly closed. He kissed them softly, triggering a moan from Leto that intensified when Danarius started to nibble on the sensitive skin. A little licking worked the wonder. Slightly swelling, the entrance opened up for him, exposing Leto even further until nothing was left to hide. Danarius tongue darted out, teasing the small slit as if he was tasting it.

Leto’s back arched a bit, his head rolling from one side to the other. He had never felt so hot before. His mind was not able to grasp what was happening, what Danarius was doing, he just… _felt_. His world was reduced to the spot between his tights where the heat radiated from, further fueled with every lick of his Masters tongue. His groaning became fierce, without noticing his fingers crumpling the sheets of paper, while his body was almost lifted up from the table.

More, he needed more. More of something he hadn’t known that it existed until now. His body trembled and shuddered under the storm of feelings in his lower body. The heat originating there, spread through him entirely, until it filled his whole world with lust.

Danarius advanced his doing and sucked the pearl into his mouth, flapping it with the tip of his tongue frequently. His fingertip caressed the entrance below to arouse Leto further, penetrating just an inch. The rising wetness rewarded him for his efforts, a vivid sign how much the slave let himself become undone.

The edge wasn’t far. Leto’s helpless moans gave away his condition clearly, and on top of that Danarius could feel his slit grew tight on his finger, a desperate attempt to hold on. The whole body was tense, a second of silent ecstasy, until it clipped violently. Leto arched, crying out, his feet almost lifting from the armrest. He turned into a shivering, heavy panting mess, totally wrecked and crumbled, his insides clenching and jolting in pleasure.

Danarius licked him gently to let him come down smoothly until it grew too much and Leto’s hips jerked away from his mouth. Then the Magister sat back, caressing the legs slightly. A small smile curved his lips while Leto tried to gather himself.

Leto slowly sat up. He was still panting heavily. This had been… He had no words to describe it. All that he managed to say was a weak “Master…”.

Danarius gentle smile calmed him and reassured him that everything was fine. Sort of.

His feet found the floor, the tunic sliding down slowly. He felt flustered but that was nothing compared to the feelings he had a couple of minutes ago. From under his bangs he shyly took a look at his Master.

“I… I’ve crumbled your sheets”, he said haltingly. Danarius nodded.

“It seems.”

Leto swallowed.

“Would… would you like… another cup of tea, perhaps? Master?” he asked, liking his dry lips. Danarius smiled at him a bit.

“That sounds reasonable.”

On shaking legs Leto left for the kitchens, completely forgetting that his underwear was still laying on his Masters carpet.

 

______________________________________

 

Leto left his Masters’ study on shaking legs, unable to fully proceed what had happened. His mind was still spinning, when he made his way through the hallway, heading for the servants’ staircase. 

Before he reached the small door hidden beneath a curtain, he saw a person coming his way. Leto pressed his lips together. He knew the girl: The Master’s new apprentice. It was unwise to speed up too obviously so Leto decided to proceed calmly and cast his eyes down politely.

Her clothes identified her as a noble as well as her pale skin. Her parents must have made an effort to keep it that way in a land as sunny and hot as Tevinter. It gave a stark contrast to her dark hair and ice blue eyes which made her an outstanding view. Leto had heard rumors that the thirteen-year-old originated from a family with former wealth and importance, who relegated because of poor choices in politics. It was obvious that their daughter was eager to climb the social ladder again.

Leto knew her because he had attended to his Master a couple of times during her lessons, serving refreshments ore fanning cool air. She seemed uninterested in anything else than learning as much as she could and pleasing Danarius. Ambition and determination was paired with a noticeable lack of compassion – good starting conditions for the apprentice of a Magister. Although she arrived a couple of weeks ago every slave in the household knew her. She was bad news and such spread quickly.

As he went past her, she stopped. He could feel her gaze on him but continued, bowing his head a little more.

“Hey. You.” He stopped. The girl raised a brow. “Don’t stay there flabbergasted! Will you face your superior, rattus?!” she snapped at him. He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on her left shoulder.

“You called, Mistress?” he asked with a slightly pressed voice. She seemed not to like that.

“Yes, and it is up to you to obey to my wishes!” she stated, as if it would not have been obvious. He waited while she reveled in her power.

“I recognize you. You are one of the vermin who dance attendance to Magister Danarius.” His eyes grew wide. Her words insulted him more than they should, maybe because of the recent events. She grinned, now that she had proof that her words had hit home.

“Didn’t you know? Elves are nothing more than scum, compared to a noble human. You should be grateful that you’re allowed to serve in such a grand house, so that your unworthy feet may touch a silken carpet.” He had never faced such an offense from a superior and his brows twitched before he could school his face into neutrality. She straightened her back a bit more and waved her hair back.

“It is like I had suspected: You believe that you could be more than a worthless thing? Let me assure you – that is not the case. Even if you’re allowed to kneel at Magister Danarius feet. Your nothing more to him than a trained, knife eared rat!” Leto starred at his feet. It burned in him, anger and hatred and… shame. He fought to keep these feelings in but he knew from her satisfied hum that she knew how he felt. She turned as if to leave him standing but continued with a sigh.

“Huh… sadly I don’t have time to continue reprimanding you. I need to speak to Magister Danarius about my research.”

‘Pff, _research_ … you mean you’ll ask him how to cast a spell properly!’ Leto thought sarcastically to himself but stayed quiet. It helped him to calm himself. She was a spoiled bully and still a child. Maybe it wasn’t about him particularly. Maybe she just wanted to insult anyone and he had the misfortune to cross her path. But when she continued he saw that the previous had been just an overture to a greater nastiness.

“I have left the Grimorium Verum in my chambers. Hurry and fetch it for me, slave!” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. Leto almost pressed his lips together. Without the ability to read it was pure luck to pick the correct book out of the many she hoarded in her room. And if it wasn’t the book she asked for, he definitely would receive a punishment.

But not today. He bowed his head low.

“I’m deeply sorry Mistress, but Master Danarius ordered me to the kitchens. I’m afraid, I’ll not be able to spare time for your request.” With this words he bowed again, turned, and hurried with a broad grin to the servant’s entrance. She only had time to gasp offended, but when she was about to say something, he had already left.

 

________________________________________

 

Hadriana turned on her heel and marched through the hallway. This little rat! How could he insult her like that! She would ask Magister Danarius if he’d given the slave truly an order. And if he lied…

She couldn’t figure out for sure why she hated the slave so much, but something about him unnerved her. He often was around when the Magister taught her how to perform the arcane arts. It wasn’t unusual that slaves were present, at least someone was needed who would bring drinks or provide a little blood occasionally. But there was something between Danarius and this one. She wasn’t able to figure it out properly but sometimes Danarius watched the boy as if he sees something more in him than a servant.

She pressed her lips together. Even if it was a slave, she could not tolerate a rival. Her father had made clear that she was the only one who could prevent her family from falling into nothingness, or worst, into slavery. Being apprenticed to Danarius had only been possible because of her great magical abilities.

‘Ae you sure?’ a silent voice rang in her mind. ‘Isn’t it more of the fact that the Magister wasn’t blessed with a child? You overheard your father’s negotiation with him, didn’t you? If he finds a liking to you, you will become his concubinus. And if you bear his child…” She shook her head violently.

She wasn’t supposed to hear that conversation and therefore kept the knowledge to herself. But her mother had advised her more than clearly that pleasing Danarius was Hadrianas’ primary duty. A shiver ran through her but she suppressed it quickly. So far, nothing had happened that was out of the ordinary for a teacher-student-relationship. But maybe soon, it would. Hadriana tried not to think about that old man touching her.

In front of the door of her teacher’s study Hadriana hesitated. She had learned to make a brave face but in moments like this she felt her courage drop. In this house she had nobody to talk to. Since she been sent away from home, her siblings, and servants, from everything she knew she had been frightened constantly.

Not only her wellbeing but the maintenance of her house depended on her ability to win the Magister over. As a mage she could feel Danarius magical power, radiating from him like heat from a flame. But as a person he was unreadable to her. Does he approve of her development? Even like her? And was she able to like him?

She swallowed but then straightened her back and put on a calm face. ‘Never let your true feelings show’ was a guideline she had learned early in her life. Without further hesitation she knocked on the door.

 

______________________________________

 

Danarius sat in his chair, lost in thought. It had been surprisingly easy for him to bring Leto to the edge – in more than one way. That was exactly what Danarius had in mind when he chose the boy for his plans, even if he had not assumed that twisting him around his finger would involve something sexual. However, a closer look revealed that this was a tool that could be used like any other.

Danarius had observed Leto closely during the past weeks. For slave he was surprisingly resilient and strong-willed. It might be because the boy was born free and taken prisoner during the last Seheron war. Contrary to many of those slaves he was not rebellious but accepted the circumstances of his life. The only thing that displays his origin was this determination to rise from his low rank.

Furthermore, he was determined towards others, and never let his guard down. Otherwise he wouldn’t have succeeded so long in hiding his secret. The overseer had described him as a tough nut but Danarius managed to bring him out of his mind with an intense look and a long silence. A good sign.

He smiled to himself. Oh yes, had played him like a puppet on strings. Pressing his fingertips together he reveled in the memory of the desperate boy, kneeling at his feet, admitting that he had ‘dirty thoughts’ about him. That had been something else.

He had to admit that it had aroused him, even if that was not the plan. Leto’s sentiments were naïve, truthful, and honest, something rare among slaves. The way Leto gave himself completely into Danarius’ hands, giving up control entirely – that wormed his way into Danarius strictly supervised feelings.

He frowned.

This was unusual. So far sexual intercourse hadn’t played an important role in Danarius’ life. Of course, there had be a little dallying during his circle years as an adolescent. But since he inherited his father’s position in the senate, he had been focused on his research and the increase of power. Furthermore, a Magister must always control his emotions in order to hide any week spots. A rival could take advantage of powerful desire and in a culture where the summoning of demons was not uncommon a sensitive fool could blunder into a trap easily.

The Magister recognized that he was drumming his fingers against the armrest and stopped it. He watched his hand slightly astonished and raised a brow.

A knock at the door took him out of his thoughts.

 

_________________________________________

 

Hadriana entered the room with conditioned sophistication, her robes whispering silkily. She curtsied in front of the expansive writing desk, modestly lowering his eyes. When she raised, a courteous smile graced her full lips, her body language proved her identity as a well-behaved daughter of a respectable family.

Danarius seemed unimpressed and looked at the clock before she had the chance to open her mouth.

“It’s time for your lessons again already?” he asked and Hadriana felt her heart sink.

“Yes, Magister. I look forward to receive your kind instructions and to admire your limitless wisdom,” she chirped, even though she hurt because of his indifference. Danarius suppressed a sigh and rose from his seat, grabbing the staff that stuck in a richly embroidered rack behind him. While his back was turned Hadriana loosened up a bit, biting her lip uncertainly.

Something on the floor caught her eye and it required all her willpower to not cry shame when she recognized it as cheap underclothes.

That little whore…!

When Danarius turned she managed to contain herself again but as he passed her she swore silently that this particular slave was about to get the shock of his life.

 

_________________________________________

 

When Leto came back the Master was gone and nobody there to enjoy the cup of tea he held in hand. Because of the encounter in the hallway and the time of the day he assumed that Danarius had left for his lessons with Hadriana. That meant that they went to the training room, a wide hall with marble statues spread over the place to practice spells on them. No cup of tea was needed there. He sat the tray on the desk and winced when he noticed the fabric on the floor. He grabbed it quickly and attempted to slip in. But then he hesitated.

His eyes got caught by the mirror.

Leto bit his lip. His Master had seen him in a way nobody had before. He blushed violently at the thought of himself with widely spread legs on the desk. Nothing had stayed hidden under his Master’s gaze. And not only his gaze, Leto remembered embarrassed. He hid his burning face in his hands but only for a moment. His eyes returned to the mirror.

Now that he thought about it, he realized that he himself hadn’t any idea how he looked down there. It felt strange. Well, this part of his body hadn’t been his main concern.

Regarding his body condition Leto had always been focused on his breast because this could have revealed him if he had handled it thoughtlessly. But now, since this problem laid in the past he hadn’t thought much about his private parts. Even when he had touched himself in the early hours of the morning he had been so focused on the feelings that he hadn’t recognized the way he was _build_ down there. He swallowed.

His gaze went to the door. Nobody was about to come. Except the head of the house and the personal servants, nobody was allowed to remain in the chambers of the Magister and Ishmael, first of the slaves, was out in the markets. He knew that Namu and Coru were cleaning the personal bathroom and Danarius himself was occupied too. Nobody would find out if he…

With hot cheeks Leto positioned himself in front of the mirror, leaning his ass against the desk. His eyes fixed on the image in the mirror he lifted his tunic. The fabric crept upwards, slowly revealing the hairless skin between his tights. Since his Master had reduced the flesh there it was a discreet sigh, much like a genderless statue.

Concentrated chewing on his lower lip he spread his legs a bit. Now a small slit was revealed. No matter what Danarius had called it, it looked nothing like a male organ. If he was honest, he had no clue what a dick looked like. Not in an aroused state. But obviously it must be different than what he examined at the moment. Slightly out of breath Leto reached for it and spread the folds.

Strangely he felt not repulsed by the view he looked at. His breast he had hated because he always had to be careful in order to guard his secret. He remembered a summer day last year when he was assigned to chop wood for the ovens. He and Irian, another boy from the kitchens, swung the axes in the courtyard, exposed to the hot sun of the early mid-morning. The other boy had dropped his tunic early to accomplish the task without sweating like a pig. He mocked Leto, who’s tunic had been wet in minutes as if had bathed in it. On top of that he had been short of breath because of his bandages and feared that he might collapse on top of the chopped wood at any second. But the situation had not only been physically tense but also mentally because Leto had feared that his bindings would become visible under the wet tunic at any second. But Irian had been to small-minded to see or to understand. Nevertheless, Leto had been punished later by the head of the slaves for ruining his tunic. No food and ten slaps to his tights with cane doubled his hatred for his own body.

This was a thing of the past now. Yesterday he had washed himself with a bare chest in front of the others after the day’s work was done. He knew that until recently they had considered him a complainer for his habit to bath alone, even if that meant to wait until everybody had gone to bed. But yesterday he had joined the men and it had felt good. With a towel around his waist nobody sent him even one suspicious or bemused glance. He had felt like himself for the first time.

When he had revealed his breast to Danarius he had considered himself deformed and ashamed of that. Merely the fact that the Magister had touched him there only to reduce the flesh had made the sensation bearable. But when the man had touched him between his tights it had been different. Especially the last time, just half an hour ago, here on the desk…

Why was that so, he wondered while he examined that part of his body more closely. He remembered Danarius touch so vividly since it was not long ago and the wetness on his fingers felt strange somehow. His finger slid around the pinhead shaped form and he shuddered a bit because it still was sensitive. A bit deeper he was even damper and his digit sank into the hollow effortlessly. There he had touched him too.

Leto closed his eyes, exploring the feeling. It was a bit weird but not unpleasant. Vague perceptions flooded his mind, a distant longing for something he was not able to grasp fully. He just understood that he wanted Danarius to touch him again. He was the first and only being who seemed to accept him the way he was, treated him like a boy and… seem to _understand_. Even caressed and… maybe desired him?

Leto swallowed and withdraw his hand. He suddenly felt sad. Putting first his tunic and then his underwear back in place, he sighed. What was he thinking. He wasn’t able to understand what Danarius saw in him and what the man desired. Just one thing was clear as day, namely that it was not in his possibilities to ask his Master for more.


	4. Festivities

The month elapsed and everything remained the same. Leto was busy with his duties, glancing at his Master if nobody was looking, otherwise keeping his weird feelings to himself. Hadriana tried to torment him whenever she had the chance but since he mostly was with Danarius she had little opportunities. Time went by.

The summer approached the autumn and a rare celebration among the slaves was coming up.

If slaves were granted the permission of their masters, they could marry. In Danarius household such an event was nothing unusual since he owned many slaves and for them it was the only possibility to legally obtain close relationship. In fact, they were encouraged to do so, particularly given that it was forbidden to trifle with the unmated. Hearsays told that some Magisters did not want it but as children born by slaves inherited their parents’ status it was a cheap possibility to increase the number of servants.

So it was no surprise that Devera and Alarith received the approval for their wedding and preparations were made. Everybody in the slave quarters was delighted with the idea of festivities among them, which was rare. The ceremony would take place in the courtyard behind the mansion and some of the slaves were permitted to decorate the area a bit.

Outside of Tevinter the live of a slave there was presented like an endless trail of beatings and hard labor until the death, in most cases as a blood sacrifice. That was only partly true. Slaves from the south, which were in fact illegally sold in Tevinter, were not used to a life of slavery. They were considered ‘bad-quality’ because of their tendency to rebel and their lack of manners and knowledge. These slaves were only purchased to maintain the slave based economy. Working on the fields, harbors, and in the stone pits was indeed hard work and caused wear and tear.

The slaves in an imperial household were considered a better class and since class and family mattered much in Tevinter, this was a huge difference. They originated from slave family’s, knowing the rules of the society and how to behave in it and were considered trustworthy. If gifted with rare abilities, such a slave could rise in rank until he was a high priced servant, a loyal companion to his Master. Some of them were taught to read and write, to discuss politics, or provide counseling. A slave who showed talent as a warrior could become a highly regarded bodyguard or even a mage hunter, skilled to chase the disgraced. A loved concubine could be considered the head of the house, showered in jewels and fine fabrics.

For extraordinary performances a slave could become a liberati, a free person, by the will of his Master. Such a thing usually goes along with a seed capital in order to start a living. The elven alienage of Minrathous was the home of the liberati and therefore much wealthier than the counterpart elsewhere. Even though a liberati was not considered an imperial citizen they were higher in rank than the slaves and able to start a business.

A slave in an imperial household was fed properly to maintain his labor. He may not have privacy or the possibility to decide his way in life but knowing the rules mostly prevent punishment and inconveniences. That could change of course. If their Master lost reputation the house could relegate and the following poverty would affect everybody in service.

If the Master focused on blood magic, like so many did, the weaker slaves were in danger of being sacrificed, but in general a Magister would buy a cheap slave for that. Mostly this was a part of punishment for a crime but some Masters were ruthless and sacrificed the old and ill slaves. Some Masters were known for rigor or cruelty among their servants but since such a behavior would affect the loyalty and devotion of the servants very much, only a few households were like that. In a society were attempts of poison murder was mainstream a Magister would do well to maintain the loyalty of his slaves. For the majority whereas slaves were part of the property like animals were part of a farm. Some they appreciate more, some less, but all of them were necessary.

To preserve peace within the household by penalty was not the only and mostly not the best way. To grant a wedding, including an evening with music, dance, and a small cup of wine for everybody was better suited to do so. Thankfulness was a much better way to hold the leash tight. Because of that, the vows were given in front of Master Danarius in person to show that this connection had his blessing. Devera and Alarith kneeled in front of him and kissed his ring thankfully, before they kissed each other. Everyone cheered.

Leto stood aside and watched the scene lost in thought. His eyes laid on Magister Danarius, who wore a dark silken robe and a silver headband, looking as magnificent as if he attended a dinner party to show that he approved the bond. His grey eyes lay on the pair in front of him when they pledged their loyalty to him.

Leto felt increasingly restless and tried to look away to calm his mind. But his eyes returned to Danarius each time the man moved a bit and his headband glistened. The man was not old, Leto considered. Yes, he was much older than him, maybe in the end of his thirty’s but somehow that doesn’t felt too old. Wrinkles had only just begun to arise around his eyes and his body was still strong and energetic.

Contrary to other wealthy people he doesn’t overindulge himself in alcohol or food or pleasant company. Some of the slaves had served in other households before and Leto knew the stories of gluttony and salaciousness. Danarius had never been known for such things. Some of the servants assumed that their Master had no feelings or desires at all but Leto didn’t believe that. The Magister was… focused. And he must have been experienced since he had been very skillful with his mouth.

Leto flushed violently when he became aware what he was thinking about. His Masters’ eyes caught his and the boy looked away again, his stomach fluttering with butterflies. Uncertain what to make of this strange feelings, Leto turned embarrassed to find his way through the crowd.

A small hand grabbed his. When he looked down, he saw Varania, his little sister, smiling at him.

“Leto!” the ten-year-old exclaimed happily. “Later there will be music! Will you dance with me?”

He smiled down on her.

“Maybe, little one. But you must wait until I have finished my duties.” He crouched down to be eye leveled with her. She brushed a strand of her flaming red hair behind her pointed ear and grinned at him.

“Maybe I’m married too if you’re too late.” She stated. He caressed her hair and laughed.

“Then I have to be quick!” With a kiss to his cheek she turned and ran away, to search for someone to dance. Leto watched her and a tight feeling rose in his chest. He would do everything to keep her happy and save but as the situation was his possibilities where limited. He could only hope and pray to the Maker that He would look out for her when he could not.

Leto sighed soundlessly, unaffected by the festiveness surrounding him. The responsibility he felt for his family was an ever-present duty that weighted heavy on his shoulders – an obligation he was facing with a feeling of inability to change something major. Helpless was a word to describe it, but he can’t acquit himself from trying. Maybe if he could become a guard. Guards had the highest status among the slaves, with the exception of the head of the house, and they often were given a stipend. He could use that to free his family, or maybe his sister at last. She was too young to truly understand under which threat they were living.

Leto’s thoughts went back to his Master. Somehow Leto didn’t feel the pressure of his situation that much around the man. Maybe because he was constantly trying not to embarrass himself any further while he attended to his numerous duties. Or maybe because Danarius had shown an understanding and accepting for Leto’s particular situation without letting him down. Leto still was grateful for that.

Coru approached him.

The other boy was still cautious around him and very polite in order to prevent making Leto an enemy of his. He reminded Leto that they still needed to prepare Danarius chambers for the night. After that they were allowed to participate in the festivities and Coru preferred to get on with it. Leto nodded and followed him inside the main house.

Namu awaited them with a glare as if they had let him wait for hours. The attitude of the oldest servant had become more and more uptight since Leto rose to the position of the favorite. He turned on his heel after he had frowned on the two of the two of them and approached Danarius with exaggerated elegance. Leto did his best not to roll his eyes.

The work was done quickly. After the bed was turned down, Namu helped Danarius take of his robes and cleared away the jewelry while Coru put away the toiletries. Leto, his eyes fixed on the floor in order to not glance at his undressed Master, took the opulent robes carefully in his arms and carried them to the dressing room. The silk felt cool against his skin when he hung each piece of garment back into place.

After he was done, Leto hesitated. The slaves’ fingers brushed over the noble material and he swallowed. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Namu wasn’t coming for him. It seemed he was still occupied with their Master and before Leto could lose the tiny bit of courage he had in this matter he leaned in and inhaled the scent of the robe. A musky fragrance filled his nostrils and made him shiver. He hesitated a moment and wetted his lips. Then he gave in and rubbed his cheek against the fabric and inhaled again.

With a lonely feeling he let go of the robe, sighing quietly and turned around.

Danarius, dressed in his bed gown, watched him from the entrance of the dressing room.

Leto froze in place, his eyes wide in terror. After he had confessed his thoughts to his Master in his study he had believed that there could be no greater humiliation. He had been wrong. This was much worse. Being caught sniffling on his Masters robes brought an embarrassment upon him he had not thought to be possible. His mouth opened and closed without a sound and even falling to his knees was impossible since he was completely petrified. 

Danarius raised a brow.

“When you have finished, you may leave.” He said and returned to his chamber.

Leto begged the Maker to open the floor and swallow him whole. Ashamed to be such a fool he sneaked out of the dressing room as soon as he was able to move a limb. With his head bowed he plodded to the door. Danarius sat in his chair in front of the window and ignored him.

 

________________________________

 

Some days passed. Danarius didn’t bring up what he had seen Leto doing and the boy felt relieved, even when he would die of shame every time he thought about it. He was confused by his feelings and when he had to be near Danarius he always felt unsettled.

Today the Magister went to the circle in the morning and was not expected until the late afternoon so the personal servants had the chance to clean their masters’ chamber properly since they had no other duties without Danarius around. The Magister usually only spent a couple of hours out of the house because he was not a big socialite. He enjoyed researching instead. It was only necessary for him to leave the mansion if he had to join in a debate in the senate or do partake in an important festivity or ceremony. For a mage of his status it was unusual to visit the circle but when the First Enchanter requested a constructive conversation about a political question, a Magister could be deigning to provide assistance.

Leto dusted the furniture in Danarius study. While he polished the wooden boards with ambition he tried his best not to look at the mirror or the desk. Every time he did it anyway, his ideas had the tendency to heat up. He would never be able to look at the desk without thinking about what had happened there.

He was deep in thoughts when Coru approached him. Despite the fact that the other servant rushed through the door like he had a demon on the heels, Leto recognized him not until he touched his shoulder. Flushed Leto turned to ask what was going on but he stopped when he saw Corus face. With eyes wide and skin drained of color, Cory looked like had seen the death himself.

“Leto, your mother… the courtyard…” Coru had not finished his stammering as Leto ran past. As quick as his feet would drag him, he hurried for the back entrance. Once he was outside his breath stopped. A small crowd had gathered around the place that every slave knew and feared.

The whipping post.

His world went blank and silent. Like in a bad dream he recognized nothing but the essential, all the other slaves became blurred to him. Fear and fury held his heart when he tried to find his way through the crowd. The sound of a whip rang in his ears, every blow followed by a stricken cry – his mother’s voice. He cocked on his breath.

All the slaves had gathered to watch the punishment. It was expected in order to indicate that this could be their fate too if the overstepped. A hand on his arm stopped Leto before he could run into the open area.

 “No!” His voice sounded raw when he saw his mother, her small frame bowed low. Suddenly all the colors and noises were back. She kneeled in the dirt, her hands bound to the post, shortly above her head. She was naked so that the whip would not harm her clothes but that should not apply for her skin. Angry red stripes bloomed in her back, some of them bleeding. She wept pathetically but every time a blow hit her back she cried out again.

The others stood there silently watching, some of them praying soundlessly. The man who had grabbed Leto was an elven yardman he knew only a little. His grip was tight and even if Leto had tried to free himself, he wouldn’t have succeeded. So he couldn’t do anything but watch. His eyes found Varania, who clung to a woman from the kitchens, crying silently. He wished he could go for her, but before he could act in that way, a small figure in a fancy dress stepped forward.

Hadriana.

She smiled at him and Leto knew instantly that this punishment in fact was meant for him. His eyes burned with tears of hatred when she waved her hair back and gestured to the guard to stop. She raised her head.

“This woman stole from your noble Master,” Hadriana exclaimed. “He is more generous and kind to you than you ever deserve, but she couldn’t get enough. Theft is a crime among the people in a household that is not tolerable. Every slave who is accused of thievery will suffer twenty lashes.”

Her icy blue eyes wandered over the crowd. They stopped at Leto, narrowing. Then she turned and marched over the yard, disappearing into the mansion. The guard rolled up the whip and followed. A couple of seconds only the slight crying was audible. Leto finally broke away from the grip and ran for his mother to undo the bonds that tied her to the post.

 

___________________________

 

Hadriana waited for Danarius return. She had planned everything accordingly but nevertheless she felt a bit anxiously. She truly had stuck her neck out but it had been worth it. The fear among the slaves had been something else but far exceeded by the impotent hatred in the rat’s eyes. It was a risk too high to go for him directly but his mother had been a decent target instead. But she needed to explain it to Danarius herself or he could become suspicious of the fact that a low kitchen help was able to steal jewelry from Hadrianas chambers. ‘But I had dropped it somewhere, the catch must have been broken and it slipped from my neck’ she repeated in her mind what she had worked out.

At the quietest sound of the front door she jumped up from where she sat pretending to read a book. With rustling robes, she strutted to the main hall. Danarius, clad in his official enchanter garment, handed his cope to the servant who had greeted him on the door. Danarius appeared annoyed but Hadriana could not grasp if it was to trace back on the weather, which was way too hot for the complete enchanter robes, or if it was because of the meeting in the circle that had occupied his whole day. Hadriana hesitated when she recognized his mood but it was too late.

“Hadriana.” Danarius eyebrows crept up. “what is it, apprentice”? He asked not unfriendly and Hadriana stepped closer. She bowed her head a slight bit.

“Good evening Magister. I’m pleased to see you after the circle had claimed your wisdom for so long.” She had chosen her words wisely hence Danarius sighed and nodded.

“Unfortunately, this is true” he answered and approached her. “Even if it had been an urgent matter it is unpleasant that it took the whole day. I’ve almost assumed that the First Enchanter deliberately tried to wear me down.” Alongside his apprentice Danarius wandered through the hallway, waiting to hear what she had to present.

She shook her hair back and made a stern face. “I’m deeply sorry to add to your burden, Magister. But I need to inform you about the recent events in your house.” She paused a moment to await his consent. When he raised his brows she continued with a calm voice, as if the event hadn’t any effect on her.

“While you’ve been away a slave stood convicted of theft. I have taken the liberty of arranging a proper punishment.” She bowed a bit to show that the she was his humble apprentice and not a spoiled girl who overstepped her competences.

“Theft you say? What have been stolen and who dared to commit such a crime?” he asked, his voice neutral. Hadriana hurried to present her prepared story. Danarius did not comment on it until she explained that she didn’t know the name of the slave since it was a low kitchen help and not worthy to be considered as an individual.

“She received her deserved punishment and it had been a lesson for the others too.” Hadriana stated, eager to hide her rising tension. To her relief her mentor didn’t pry any further but accepted the explanation. Hadriana curtsied when they reached the entrance to Danarius personal chambers and allowed herself a satisfied smile when the doors closed behind him.

If she could not reach Leto in person then she would find other ways to show him his place.

 

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Ishmael bowed slightly and left the chambers on even steps. Danarius look lingered on the door, that had just closed behind the bold slave. He was almost sixty years old and had already served under Danarius father. Despite his age he was a strong man and above all, absolutely loyal to the family of Danarius. His first concern was to maintain the excellence and top performance of the slaves under his wing in every matter. To ensure that his Master was able to live in an environment that was adequate to him he considered no expense to high and commanded the servants with a firm hand. He knew almost everything that happened within the household and reported anything unusual to his Master. That included anything regarding the new apprentice.

Danarius considered what he had heard. It could have been a coincidence that the slave that had been punished for thievery was Leto’s mother. It could be. Danarius stroked his beard thoughtfully. Or the apprentice had a reason to despise the woman. An elf she had certainly never met before since she was a low kitchen help who was not allowed within the domain of the masteries. That seemed unlikely. More probable was the option that it involved Leto – a slave that Hadriana had seen often around Danarius. His eyes narrowed. This affair required a closer look.

He never acted on the first impression, instead gathered information and draw conclusions, like a scientist was supposed to do. And like a scientific puzzle it aroused interest in him. Often such a situation turned out as something that could be used for his own benefit.

 

___________________________________

 

Leto tried his best to hide his feelings regarding the recent events from everybody. His mother was slowly recovering from the beating and he feared that she might be considered unworthy if she wasn’t able to get back on her feet in a short time. She was almost malnourished because she never had been able to eat enough. Since the war and their capture on Seheron she had a nervous stomach and had always been considered underweight. In this condition it was hard for her to recover properly from the gashes. Leto did his best to snatch some of the bits he was granted for her. The Master’s food was excellently prepared, easy to swallow, and very substantial so it could help her getting well Leto hoped.

Today his Master had enjoyed roasted pigeon with fresh bread and a variation of fruits and as usual some of the dinner remained on the plate. Leto eyed the poultry with a wet mouth when they put together the cutlery and plates after Danarius finished. Leto had scarcely crossed the threshold on his way out, when the grabbed the biggest piece and put it aside for his mother. But Namu stopped him.

“What are you doing?” the older boy asked, his brow furrowing. Leto withstand the critical look and raised his chin a bit. Namu seemed to be unimpressed and continued. “You want to have it for your mother, isn’t it so? You know that residues are for the personal servants only!”

Leto made a face at him. “That’s none of your business. And you’re not in a position to control me!” He was rewarded with a slap against his head which made him flinch back.

“Don’t talk to me like that! I’m above you!” Namu’s eyes where burning. “You’ll see what you’ll have of it!” With this he turned on his heel and marched away. Leto watched him go and asked himself what had gotten into the other servant. That Namu never would be his closest friend had been obvious. But this outburst was something else.

Coru nudged him in the side slightly. “Here. Take this to your mother too. I don’t need it.” He gave Leto a slice of fresh bread and some fruit. Then he took the tray from him. “Go on, hurry, until Namu found Ishmael to reprimand you.” Leto smile thankfully. Then he took the food and ran away to the slave quarters.

His mother was able to eat the gifts and thanked him but he could see the worry in her eyes that her child might have overstepped his boundaries. Leto shook off her concern with a smile and bid her a good night before he returned to Danarius quarters.

 

___________________________________

 

Leto assumed that the encounter with Namu would have repercussions but during the following days nothing happened. He hadn’t even reported Leto to the head of the slaves. Nevertheless, Leto stayed cautious.

Namu was the only one who was permitted to assist Danarius in personal matters. The magister allowed not many people near him at all and when it came to bathing and undressing it was only the oldest of the boys who was welcomed to attend. Leto had asked himself very often why that was the case but it seemed that Danarius simply disliked to be touched.

Leto wondered if this was the reason why there had been no further event between them. When Danarius had approached him it had been a one-sided encounter only. Both times the Master had stayed fully dressed and received not the slightest touch.

Smack!

Leto’s and Coru’s head turned around when the loud slap sounded within the bathroom.

“How dare you touch me like that! Out with you!” The voice of their Master sounded in such a manner nobody of them had heard before. Danarius, who was always calm and controlled, roared at the unfortunate Namu who stumbled out of the bathroom. His eyes were teary and a burning red handprint decorated his cheek.

“Leto! Get in here!” The command was only a slight bit calmer and Leto swallowed when he smoothed his tunic and went for the bathroom door. Danarius stood in the middle of the tube, water and foam streaming down his naked body. His face was red and angrier as Leto had ever seen him before.

He did his best to not ogle his naked Master and held his gaze to the ground when he entered. Before he could ask what Danarius wished of him, the Magister already snapped at him.

“Give me a towel! Hurry!” Leto rushed to do so, wrapping his Master in the soft material. Anxiously he tried to find out what was expected now, maybe dry the hair or help Danarius dress. But before Leto could act, Danarius shoved him out of the way to march out of the bathroom, the towel sloppily wrapped around his waist.

Namu cowered on the floor on his knees, the head bowed so low that his forehead touched the tiles. He shivered. Coru stood in a corner, slightly trembling. Nobody had ever experienced their master like this. Leto followed Danarius, who came to halt in front of the bowing slave. His glare was hard when he fixed him with his grey eyes.

“What possessed you to do that?!” he demanded. Namu flinched at the harsh tone.

“I… I apologize Master. Such was not my intention. The sponge slipped from my fingers and suddenly… I beg your pardon Master…” Namu stammered. Danarius raised his brows. He was not buying it, it seemed. But he calmed visibly and slowly found back to his usual composed expression.

“Well. If you are that _unskillful_ I should better free you from such onerous duties,” he told Namu with ice dropping from every word, staring the boy into the floor. He turned his head and his cold gaze lingered on the other two slaves who held their eyes fixed on the floor. “From now on Leto will be in charge of my personal matters. Namu, you are dismissed. Tell Ishmael what happened and await his decision on the issue.”

Danarius turned away abruptly and went back to the bathroom, leaving three stunned slaves behind. Leto regained his balance the first and followed his Master in order to help him dry and dress himself properly.

___________________________________

 

Namu had received a punishment but nobody knew what it had been since Ishmael had executed it behind closed doors. In any case Namu made a pained impression while fulfilling his duties which were much limited than before. Nevertheless, Leto was happy that the other boy remained in service.

In contrast to Coru and Leto, who were slaves from the household who were chosen because of their looks, Namu was a highly skilled valet, trained in a school for very expensive slaves. He knew everything that was needed to take care of a noble man, and that was much more than just washing his hair. He was skilled in cleaning even the most persistent stains in delicate fabrics without wasting them, knew which part of the complicated garments belonged where and to which occasion a special robe was needed. He was able to dress a man’s hair and beard, and perform all the other services that were required to let a Magister appear magnificent.

Leto now was in charge of the most tasks which involved a close contact to Danarius, which meant that he was around his Master the majority of the day. Most of the time he was relieved if he was able to avoid bigger accidents. On top of that Danarius had increased his training hours. Leto was now instructed two hours in the early morning in the art of swordfight and defense by a professional trainer. After that he washed himself and had a light breakfast apart from the other slaves before he had to be available for his Master’s needs.

Slowly he lost contact to the rest of the household since his waking hours where full of exhausting duties and he could do nothing more than fall dead asleep in his quarters when the day ended. Nevertheless, it was a good feeling to have a true purpose. He was sure that his Master was building him into a personal attendant who would outstrip any other.

This was the way to become a liberati one day. Serve with all your heart and soul, become a special servant to the Master and be granted the ultimate favor. It was nothing that was pointless to hope for. Ishmael had been granted this honor years ago but he had refused since the service for Danarius’ family was his sense in life. Leto believed that his Master saw something in him that justifies the effort he put in the young man and that would lead him and his family to a better life. He was sure of it.

His mother had recovered from the punishment and returned to her work, which relieved Leto a lot. Furthermore, Hadriana had not dared another attempt to punish a slave. Sometimes Leto saw her watching him with a grim face but he tried to be polite and humble because he understood very well that his family would pay if he angered her.

To be the first attendant to Danarius meant that Leto now was increasingly present when Hadriana had her lessons. Usually he did his best to ignore what was happening since he had no idea was magic was about. Most of the time it appeared to him that she was standing in the middle of the training room with her eyes closed and Danarius silently whispering to her. From time to time she raised a hand and a spell became visible – a flame or a swirl of ice and snow.

Today something seemed different though. Hadriana was nervous and apparently she was not able to perform what Danarius was asking of her. The tutor slowly grew impatient and Hadriana seemed to become more and more desperate. Leto stood aside, his eyes trained on the wall on the other side of the room, a tray with a water bowl and a towel in hand to refresh the Magister after the lesson. Even if he knew that he wasn’t allowed to, he glanced towards the couple when Danarius annoyed threw his hands in the air.

“Stay focused!”

“I do! I do my best!” the girl answered with a strained voice. But Danarius obviously was unusually impatient this day and her clumsy defense did nothing to soothe his mind.

“Well, if that is your best then I don’t know why I bother myself with tutoring you! I could teach Leto in your place, that would bring the same result.” He turned and walked over to the window to calm himself. Hadriana stood there trembling, with teary eyes and clenched fists. To be compared to a non-mage was bad enough but to match her with an elven slave was worst.

Even if he had to stand as a bad example, Leto couldn’t help himself as his lips curled upward at the sight of the desperate girl. But when Hadriana shoot him a poisoned look and he was not quick enough to school his face into neutrality. Hadrianas eyes went wide and Leto was sure that she would throw a spell on him but then she straightened her posture and a cold smile appeared on her face. She turned to Danarius and curtsied.

“I apologize Magister. You’re right. I wasn’t focused enough, which is unforgivable. I beg your pardon.” Danarius turned on this humble words and looked at her bowed head with raised eyebrows. She continued. “Maybe it is because I still need to cope without a maid. To see after everything myself is tiring and I’m not used to it.”

Danarius rolled his eyes. “I told you: Pick one of the girls and train her. I will not waste money on a highly skilled maid when my household is full of hands.”

She curtsied again. “Yes Magister. I did chose a girl but I wanted to ask your consent on the matter. There is a skillful and subservient young slave. Her name is Varania.” Leto felt cold. Since he knew exactly why Hadriana had made this choice he wasn’t able to remain with a neutral face. The lesson with his mother was still fresh in his mind. But neither Danarius nor Hadriana looked at him so it went unnoticed. Danarius thought of it for a second. Then he nodded.

“Well, so be it. But I expect you to be more focused next time we practice this spell.”

Leto felt like the earth was opening under his feet to swallow him whole. His cute and kindhearted little sister should suffer under Hadrianas fingers. And it was his fault again.


	5. The Trap

Since Varania had been assigned to service Hadriana, Leto had done his best to eavesdrop when he heard somebody mentioning his sister. To his relief it seemed that Hadriana wasn’t excessively cruel to the girl, but that could be something she was saving up for Leto’s next misstep. When he was around her she often watched him with a confident little smile on her lips as if she wanted to tell him that she held all the cards now.

For a short time Leto entertained the thought of telling Danarius that Hadriana seems to hate him and that it was likely that demanding his sister to be her maid was a move to threaten the brother. But to bother the Master with such things was a risk too high.

Hadriana was his apprentice and Danarius had given her the permission to choose freely. To take that back would mean to announce officially that Leto was special to him. Which Leto wasn’t. Even if Danarius often had been lenient with him and seemed to somehow care for him – to ask him for such a favor would be way too much. So Leto kept quiet and prayed to the Maker that his sister would be spared.

Leto thought about the that misery while he went to training grounds. To get up early enough to receive his teaching was challenging but he did his best not to be late. Danarius had obliged Nicon, the head of the guard, with this duty and to be late was tantamount with punishment. The old guard Marius had grown fond of the young slave who was eager to learn and the connection had been friendly but Nicon somehow despised him.

Nicon did not beat him of course but he would let him run around the courtyard instead of teaching him moves, which was as bad. Nevertheless, his advice was beneficial and Leto tried his best to pass his strict view. In fact, he had gotten very good lately and the training sword felt naturally in his hand. He had managed to master some really nasty moves and was proud about the progress – at least he only had two hours in the morning to get better.

The sun was barely peeking over the rooftops of the capitol when Leto hurried to reach the training grounds. The air was chilly in this early hours of the day, a clear sign that autumn had approached the country. Leto gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering. During the training he would become warm, but in the beginning it was a contest not to tremble like an aspen leaf.

He arrived at the fence surrounding the field and stopped. Nicon stood there, like every morning, clad in light armor, not freezing the tiniest bit. But today he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood another man, a guard due to his appearance, a training sword in hand. Leto watched him cautiously when he entered the training ground. The men turned towards him and the stranger raised his brows.

“This is the knife ear?” He whistled disparaging. “He is nothing more than a twig!” he laughed. “How do you train him? Let him try to lift a sword until the time is up?”

Leto felt his cheeks heating up but he kept his mouth shut. That guy knew nothing of him and even if the insult stung, he knew that he was able to fight. He tried to look confident and raised his chin. Nicon eyed him disdainful.

“Today we will enter the next step. You had enough chances to hurt a straw dully. From now on you will face one of my men in a serious practice battle.” He threw a wooden training sword at Leto who grabbed it. The man across had a nasty grin on his scarred face and lifted his sword already. They moved into position, Nicon as a referee beside them. Leto gritted his teeth. Well then, Marius had shown him some really nasty moves and he was willing to give all he had against that moron in front of him.

“Well then, knife ear. Let’s see how much you can take!” the guard snarled, grinning further on.

At the sign of their referee the wooden swords clashed against each other.

 

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Pain.

Radiation from every limp.

The smell of blood in the air, the taste of copper in his mouth.

Leto opened one eye just to see that dirt was next to his face. He laid on it.

The smell of blood belonged to the mud.

His blood.

Anything hurt. But mostly his arms and rips.

He grimaced when he tried to move a bit. Pain made him gasp, which brought more pain. His ribs were broken. How many? He didn’t know. The pain was too much to think straight.

What had happened? He tried to focus, but it was hard to grasp a thought. His head swam in dark red painful nothingness.

Someone was talking.

“Take him to the sickroom. He’s wasted for today. And inform the Master. His little princess will be absent due illness today.”

The insult stung in more than one way but Leto wasn’t able to respond. He tried to push himself up but it wasn’t possible. It hurt too much.

Someone grabbed him carefully but it hurt. He wasn’t able to cry out but he gasped for air. It was so hard to breath. His ribcage seemed to be on fire!

Half-conscious he was aware that two people were carrying him. But he needed to attend to his duties! He tried to say something but only a weak blubber left his chapped lips.

Before he arrived inside he passed out again.

 

_______________________________________

 

The next time he awoke it was due to a pale blue light above him.

The pain was just a distant feeling but his mind still swam in a haze. He couldn’t see much because of the glimmer that blinded his tired eyes. He tried to sit up but he wasn’t able to move a single digit.  Distant panic rose in him but somehow the feeling appeared as if it belonged to someone else. He tried to fight the drowsiness and the inability to move and with great effort he managed to lift his head and shoulders a tiny bit.

The light subsided and a hand on his shoulder held him down effortlessly, a female voice soothing his mind.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe.” The voice was kind, even if a hint of fear laid in it. “I gave you a pain killer, that’s why you’re not able to move. Please lay still and let me take care of your wounds.” Leto didn’t recognize the voice nor the face above him. In his confused head he could only identify the woman as an elf, about twenty years old. Even if he had wanted to fight her or run, he wasn’t able to. His limbs felt heavy as stone and breathing was hard enough to not try anything else. So he closed his eyes and let himself fall back into the haze.

Time went by and the blue gleam continued. The more it roamed up and down his body the better he felt. The pain he recognized earlier was almost gone. Slowly Leto came to his senses and became able to understand what was happening. Somebody had summoned a healer. He had been injured during his ‘training’ with the guard and it seemed that it had been bad enough to threaten his life. Had Ishmael insisted to take care of him? Healing provided by a mage was very expensive and usually not given to a slave.

He tried to look around to get a feeling of where he was and what he had to expect in the near future. The room was strange, but not unfamiliar. The white walls and arched windows told him that he was in the main house but due to the lack of ornament and decoration it was likely that he had been brought to a room in the basement, somewhere in the housekeeping area. He was resting on a cot; some utilities he didn’t recognize next to him on a wooden bench. 

The light had stopped. Leto felt tired but the injuries seemed to be gone. The healer stepped back, a quiet sigh on her lips.

Suddenly Leto was aware that another person was present. He heard footsteps and then a conversation so silent, he wasn’t able to make out the words. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized Danarius’ voice. Why was the Magister present when a slave was healed? Had he been the one who ordered the healer to do so? Or had he found out recently and was upset with him because he had failed to defend himself? Slowly he tried to sit up again. It wasn’t possible so he just turned his head in the direction of the voices and tried to focus his uneven look.

Danarius stood near the entrance, quietly talking to the healer. To Leto’s surprise she wore the robe of the Minrathous circle of magi but even so she gave a very humble impression as if the Magister was her Master. But she was a mage Leto considered. Was she his apprentice? She seemed to be too old to be a student. His head started to hurt because of all the questions that build up behind his eyes. The conversation seemed to come to an end and Danarius nodded at her.

“Well done. You evolved very much in the art of healing since you train your spirit magic,” he said. The elf bowed slightly.

“Thank you, Master. I’m honored to be able to assist.” Leto’s brow furrowed confused. Why did she call him Master? So she _was_ a slave! But he had never seen her in the house.

“You don’t need to call me that. You’re a mage and a part of the Minrathous’ circle of magi.” Danarius answered generously. “The title Magister is sufficient.”

She bowed again but said nothing. After a couple of seconds, she fidgeted a bit nervously.

“Excuse me, M… Magister,” she continued after his agreeing nod. “May… may I ask about my brothers?” she asked shyly, not able to rise her eyes to his face. All of her behavior spoke of slavery, even if she must be considered of a higher rank since she was a mage.

“They are well. If you want, you can visit them, now that you are here. I’ll let them summon to the barracks so that you can spend some time together.” Danarius answered, still smiling in this generous way. She bowed again, deeper this time.

“Thank you, M… Magister. I would be very grateful for that. I’ve not seen them since I’ve been brought to the circle.”

“Don’t worry. They are taken care of. Alarith even got married. And they are very proud of their big sister, I’m sure of that. But before you go to speak to them…” he paused, inclining his head a bit. “I think I do not have to tell you that I don’t wish you to speak of what… you’ve seen here. To no one”. She froze.

“What do you mean. M… Magister? I’ve seen nothing!”

“Good.”

She bowed deeply and left at a gesture of Danarius. The man threw a glance after her, before he turned to walk over to Leto’s cot.

Leto’s eyes laid on his Master, unable to grasp his mood. The smile was still there but somehow it wasn’t really friendly. He held his breath, unsure if it was expected of him to rise from the cot and bow but Leto wasn’t able to move a limb. Danarius somehow seemed to know about that.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to move soon.” He paused, looking over Leto’s body. “They bashed you up quite a bit.” Leto lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Master. I wasn’t able to stand my ground,” he admitted ashamed. But Danarius only hummed silently.

“You will, soon. You need more training like that, to learn how to bestow against a real opponent. But I’ll instruct the guard captain that I’ll not summon a healer again. He should let you fight, not be smashed.” His fingers wiped softly over Leto’s forehead, gently pushing back some strands that fell in the slave’s eyes. The gesture give rise to a hundred butterfly’s in Leto’s stomach. He wetted his dry lips. His Master _was_ caring about him! A sudden happiness flooded through him and made him smile.

 

__________________________________

 

Danarius walked away from the chamber where Eliana had healed Leto. He smiled to himself as he wandered to the stairs that led him back to the upper floor. Ishmael was waiting there for him.

“I think this experience will encourage him further to improve his skills. Send word to Nicon that I wish for his next opponent to be a matching partner. It is not a problem if Leto is hurt, but I don’t wish him to be damaged that badly.” He walked with Ishmael nodding in agreement next to him. “And let him know that he should use real swords as soon as Leto is ready. We need to speed this up a bit.”

“Yes, Master. All will be as you wish.” Ishmael replied. He hesitated a second and then continued. “I must inform that the last subject of your research had died. The jailer told me that he had found him dead in his cell this morning.” Danarius nodded.

“Sadly that was to be expected. He was weak.” It had been just possible to test the lyrium infusion on him but as assumed he had not withstood. Since it was a slave bought cheaply on the black market no one in the household would miss him. “Arrange that his arm is sawn of in order to extract the lyrium” he ordered and then marched to the study to write down what he had found out with the last experiment.

 

__________________________________

 

Hadriana crumbled the expensive paper in her fingers and let it slip to the floor. She bit her lips and stared out of the window without seeing anything. At first she had been delighted to receive a letter from her mother, had been eager to read news about her family, about the life she had left behind. Maybe even a congratulation for becoming Danarius’ apprentice officially. But when her eyes roamed over the text she had found nothing of it. Her mother got to the heart of the situation without politeness or digression:

“I hope these lines find you well and confident. Furthermore, I feel certain, that you do your best to please your generous tutor in every possible way. We would be glad to hear about your progressings” the letter read.

Hadriana’s heart hammered in her chest but her hands felt strangely cold. The pressure was back, the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage that became smaller and smaller until she lost the ability to breath. She wasn’t sure what she despised more: the thought of Danarius ordering her into his bed or the fact that he hasn’t done it so far.  Maybe it would be easier to bear when he did it. At least she would not need to worry about that anymore. But there was nothing, not the slightest approach.

Without noticing she fiddled on her thumbnail with her index until a sharp sting in the joint brought it to her attention. She looked down and noticed that she had overworked it while carving a notch into the carefully manicured fingernail. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to let go of that old habit she often used when the pressure became too much. She needed to attract Danarius attention at all costs. And when he did respond to her persuasion all that was left was to hide the nauseating feelings.

The letter at her feet burnt down to ashes with a silent sizzle.

__________________________________

 

Leto recovered quickly from the injuries but was exempted from the training for a couple of days to check if he was truly alright. Nevertheless, his work was exhausting because his limbs felt weak and powerless.

It was late in the evening when he walked over the courtyard, tired from his duties, but he had been helping to prepare the main dining room. Danarius was about to held a big festivity to officially announce Hadriana as his apprentice. The girl had passed the test stage and was considered worthy to learn from one of the best. In order to that a dinner party would take place in a couple of days, were the most prestigious citizens were invited. It should be one of the main events of the season and in order to present the household as perfect, every slave was working for days beforehand.

Leto had helped to clean and polish the silverware and the ivory plates for two-hundred guests and now he felt as if he would never be able to lift a cloth again. All he wanted was to sink down on his mat and sleep, until in a few hours his next round of training would begin.

Relishing the thought of some rest, he barely overlooked the small figure that waited next to the men’s barrack. At the last moment he recognized Varania standing there, wringing her hands. The girl cowered in the shadow with a face as pale as the plates Leto hat polished earlier.

“Varania… what are you doing here?” he whispered tense. She looked up to his face and Leto saw a bright red gash on her cheekbone. Someone had slapped her hard and Leto immediately had a guess who had that been. He crouched down beside her and touched her shoulder.

“Little one… what happened?” he asked with a kind voice, expecting his sister to fling her arms around his neck to be comforted. But she just watched him with wide eyes and Leto noticed that she was still frightened. He rubbed her arms to calm her, feeling his chest tighten with fear. “What is it? Tell me?” he asked again, because there must be something or she would not dare to wait next to the men’s accommodations in the late evening. When she finally spoke, her voice was no more than a breath.

“They want to hurt you.” Her eyes were filling with tears. Leto frowned, at a loss.

“Who? Who will hurt me?” he asked, forcing himself not to become to rude in order to not frighten her further. But he could not fight the cold feeling that started to creep up his neck. Was this about his trainer Nicon? Was this the reason why he had beaten him up so badly? Varania shivered, but continued in a tiny voice.

“The boy you work with f… for Master. He met with t… the mistress.” Her voice was thick with tears and Leto needed to be patient with her, even if his eyes grew wide with shock. “They talked about you. I’ve overheard. She… she encouraged him to ensnare the Master further but… he… refused. He said he had tried. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but then… your name fell. They said it’s your fault and that he should try to let you fall from grace!” Now the tears were streaming down her face. “The Mistress… she told him to cut you out! You must be careful!” She clung to him and sobbed. Leto held her close, feeling cold inside. He had thought that Hadriana was a bully who liked to torment slaves who were at Danarius’ personal disposal. But it seemed that she hated him in particular.

But why?

His hand stroke Varania’s hair until she calmed a bit. When she looked up to him again he smiled a bit to let her feel save.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful. Thank you for telling me. No I can prevent whatever they are planning.” She smiled a bit and rubbed her eyes. Slaves were told not to cry very early. “And who hurt you little one?” he asked, cautiously touching the skin under the gash.

“The Mistress. I was… frightened and then I dropped her brush. She hit me and her ring hurt my cheek. It… isn’t that bad… and she doesn’t know that I’ve overheard…” she said quietly and Leto hugged her again. His brave and kind little sister. The thought that Hadriana holds sway over her was almost unendurable. After she had calmed a bit he escorted her back to the women barrack and bid her good night, not without warn her to be careful around Hadriana first. Varania promised to do so and Leto watched her go inside.

 

____________________________________

 

Danarius watched Leto’s training from the window of his bedroom. In the early hours of the day it was not possible to be seen from there if there was no light within so he could observe the development of the boy without being discovered. He stood there, examining the training with the same precision he would grant to one of his experiments. His hand stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Leto did his best and the training was bearing fruit but somehow he was not able to grasp the meaning of a swordfight. He was able to do the movements and his actions were swift and graceful, but he remained in a defensive position protecting his weak spots, but scarcely attacking, let alone trying to kill.

That was something he needed to accomplish because Danarius was not only searching for a bodyguard but also for a killer. The expenses for lyrium were considerable and Danarius was not only in need of a success to silence his critics but also of a fighter he could bet on in the arena.

Leto needed more practice. And particularly the will to hurt his opponent. He needed a sort of killer instinct.

But how was that to accomplish?

Danarius watched Leto jump aside, dodging a blow of his opponent.

A person would kill to protect something that was precious to him. In war that was easy: Soldiers were told to protect their comrades in order to be protected by them. Letting them train and live together, spend their spare time in the evening together was a method to form bonds that could be used in that way. But his lyrium warrior should not feel obliged to someone else, not even another soldier, he should only focus on his master.

Danarius eyes wandered to the barracks of the women. If Leto felt the need to protect his family, he would kill, there was no doubt. Danarius had watched him around his sister and the relationship was strong between them. To assign the girl to Hadriana hat stressed Leto but it wasn’t enough. But if Hadriana would start to pull the strings tighter… And that was easy to accomplish since his apprentice was jealous on Leto like nothing else. But the boy was in no position to hurt her, and that was nothing Danarius could wish for. There must been another way.

An Idea rose in the Magister’s mind and a smile crept up his lips while he watched Leto sword dancing on the training ground. At least it was worth giving it a try.

 

__________________________________

 

Leto was assigned to fetch some flowers for the table and since the blooming season in Minrathous lasted long he went to the gardens to pick some of the flowerage. The gardens laid in front of the main house, surrounding its sides like emerald collar, fenced with an ornamented wall. According to the status of the owner they were magnificent and overly extensive, not quite a park but build in a way that let them seem bigger than they actually were. Nevertheless, the area was big enough to house the entire senate if a garden party has to take place.

Grass, perfectly trimmed and decorated with ornately grown plants was interwoven with meandering ways of white stone, created in a shape that let the garden seem more spacious. Trees cut the view as well as a water fountain. White benches were located under railings overgrown with dark ivy to provide cool shadow to linger in. The paths lead to a small, hidden pavilion of ivory wickerwork where musicians used to play when Danarius invited guests to the gardens.

Leto liked the green, the colorful flowers, and the singing birds in the trees. If someone could ignore the distant sounds of the capital it was almost like being out in the countryside. Or he assumed that it must be like this since he didn’t remember much from the time before they came here.

With great care Leto picked long-stemmed flowers and put them into a basket dangling on his arm. He chose the ones which were about to bloom but not jet because these would last the longest in a vase and fill the master chambers with subtle scent. The most beautiful flowers grew near the pavilion since the trees surrounding it provided shelter from the merciless Tevinter sun. Leto went there with silent steps. He was so focused on his task that it was no wonder that he almost dropped his load of colorful blossoms when he suddenly faced Danarius.

The Magister stood next to the stem of an old willow, the leafs surrounding him like a slightly swaying veil. Behind Danarius laid the pavilion, his inside shadowy and quiet, the ivory wickerwork a contrast to his dark robes. The scene somehow had an enchanted touch.

Leto bowed, greeting the Magister who seemed to enjoy a walk in the late afternoon, now pausing in the cool shadows of a tree.

Neither Danarius nor Leto said a word, just looking at each other in silence. Only the chirping of the singing birds was audible in this secluded place of the garden. The Magister inclined his head little bit and Leto felt his heart speeding up, beating loudly in his ears. The strange sensation of butterflies in his stomach made him nervous and he already felt his cheeks heating up again. Due to that he casted his eyes down and swallowed heavily.

Looking down he suddenly remembered his task, given the heavy load of flowers in his basket. Apologetically he made a step forward, lifting his burden a bit to demonstrate what he was here for. Some of the most fragrant flowers grew next to the pavilion and Leto neared Danarius in order to pick some of them. White calyxes, decorated with light blue veins and violet pistils lined up the wooden structure and emitted a sweet, heady scent.

Danarius watched him bending forward to reach one of the flowers but when Leto stretched out his hand he made a small disapproving noise. Leto pulled back so quick as if he had burned himself. His eyes flew to his Master’s face to see why he had stopped him. Was it forbidden to pick this peculiar plant?

Danarius stepped behind him, reaching around Leto to touch the white calyx with the tip of his finger. It swayed a bit, seeming to shiver at the soft contact. Leto suddenly felt reminded of the last time his Master had been as close as this and touched him like he now caressed the flower. His mouth went dry.

Leto felt Danarius breath on his sensitive ear when the man bended forward. Somehow it was as if Danarius was embracing him from behind, even if there was not the slightest touch. The slave wasn’t able to suppress a shiver.

“You must be careful with these…” When Danarius turned his head their faces were only inches away from each other.

‘Is he about to kiss me...?’ Leto asked himself soundlessly, his eyes fixed on his Master’s lips. When nothing more happened, he nodded slightly. Danarius lips curved into a small smile.

“If you rush while picking them, they will suffer. You must be gentle and… cautious,” he said in a low murmur that was sending hot spikes through Leto’s body. He was not able to take his eyes from his Master’s lips, wetting his own absently with his tongue. Somehow he wasn’t entirely sure if they were still speaking about the flowers.

Carefully Danarius took Leto’s hand and brought it to a peculiar part of the flower, low on the stem where pale green leafs spread.

“Here…” he whispered. “That is the right place to touch them…” Leto felt his Masters chest on his back, now that Danarius leaned in so much. Danarius touch on his hand, the slight pressure to show him where to put his fingers… somehow it became a more and more sensual experience.

With Danarius’ guidance Leto broke the stem of the flower and held it in hand. Its beauty was overwhelming but Leto wasn’t able to notice it entirely since he was caught in the close contact to the other body. Hesitantly he put the calix in the basket, expecting Danarius to retreat now that the problem was solved. But his master didn’t, instead he stayed close to him as if he wanted to lean against him.

His touch, no more than a wing’s beat, travelled up over Leto’s arm, to his shoulder and caressed his cheek slightly. Like pulled on a string Leto turned to him, raising his eyes to his master’s. The moment spread between them, their body’s so close it could be almost called snuggling. Leto’s heart hammered in his chest so loudly, he feared Danarius might hear it to. The Magister’s eyes roamed over Leto’s face ever so slightly as if he was caressing him with his fingertips.

‘Please, kiss me…’ Leto thought with all his might. Danarius smiled down on him and raised his hand. He slowly caressed his cheek, his neck. Effortless the fingers went into Leto’s hair, bending his head back a little. Leto closed his eyes, when the man slowly leaned in, their lips only inches away from each other.

A loud smack started them both. Leto whirled around just to see Hadriana in the entrance of the pavilion. A book laid at her feet as if she had dropped it in shock and her face was more than furious. Next to him stood Varania, her face drawn to the floor, her expression strained. Leto felt his face heating up. Being caught in this situation left nothing to the imagination and his own willingness was more than obvious. His master’s hand was still on his neck, retreating slowly now that the situation had ended.

“Excuse me, Magister,” Hadriana said with a barley composed expression. “Isn’t it time to start the lesson?” Danarius nodded as if he had been interrupted while reading a not very interesting letter and had not started a make out with his favorite slave. Leaving Leto behind as the meaningless thing he was, he escorted his apprentice away. Varania followed the couple, her had bowed and her face red with shame, obviously shocked by what she had witnessed.

Leto stayed behind, his arm full of beautiful flowers but his heart bleeding. He wished he could curl up and die. His sister would tell their mother what she had seen and he knew that both of them would despise him for it. To be forced to entertain a master was one thing. But to be eager for it, to beg for it – even if it had ben silently – was the worst. But despite the shame he felt to be caught in a situation like that in front of his little sister, he felt a pang of regret that they had been interrupted.

And the realization about how much he had fallen for the magister was so much harder to bear.


	6. The announcement

Leto was aware that he needed to do something. After Hadriana had caught him with Danarius it became obvious why she hated Leto: She was jealous as hell. His sister had to pay for her anger and every time Leto caught a glimpse of her, Varania’s eyes where red from crying. Hadriana tormented her, but not only with cruel tasks and punishment but furthermore, with badmouthing her brother.

Leto had no proof but since Varania kept out of his way since the incident in the garden it was obvious. Leto racked his brain about what he should do, but he was helpless and could only pray that the wrath of the apprentice would fade soon. However, Danarius made no other approach on him and maybe that meant that he had lost his interest.

The situation was almost too much to bear.

The training helped. He noticed that it was possible to put anger and hatred and fear into blows. He was not required to preserve the guard he was fighting and he stopped holding back. Even if he was smaller than his opponent, his muscles where tough and because of years of hard labor he was much more flexible than a guard who was training only the default routines. And the wrath, that build up in him every time he saw Hadriana smiling at him with the feeling of success, quickened his blows.

Leto didn’t notice the cry of rage that he let out when he flew upon his opponent. Quick blows of his training sword rained down on the man, conquering his defenses. Wood meet armor, skin, a bone broke. The man went down to his knees. Leto raised the sword above his head, fury blazing in his eyes when he prepared himself for the finish.

He moved forward… but the sword was caught above him. He pulled at it but it wouldn’t move. Furious he looked up, just to see Nicon behind him, holding the wood in a firm grip. His brows where furrowed but somehow he seemed… impressed.

“Leto, that is enough! You’re not supposed to kill him!”

Leto blinked as sweat got in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that the guard captain called him by his name instead of knife ear or slave for the first time that cooled him down immediately. Slowly he felt his anger fade. He looked down on the man before him, a man he didn’t even knew the name of, and recognized the injuries for the first time. Arm broken, bleeding wound on the forehead, maybe some rips injured too. During the fight he had not noticed any of it. He reminded Leto at his first fight against a real opponent where he himself had ended that way. And he realized that Nicon was right. He had been about to kill the man.

His hands let go of the weapon immediately. The anger that had burned inside him had overwhelmed every sense of empathy or logic. He turned to Nicon, his breath heavy and his head spinning.

“That was very good Leto. I’ll inform Master Danarius about your progress.” With this words and the very first praise ever he turned and marched away from the field, calling other guards to help their comrade. Leto stood in the dirt, irrationally feeling as helpless as if he was the one who had been injured.

 

___________________________________

 

Danarius roamed the room, feeling unsettled and tense. Well his whole situation was not something to be calm and relaxed about but he knew from experience that it wasn’t helpful to fuss over it. He had been regarded by others as a stranger, a nerd when it comes to lyrium and elven lore. He would show them what he was capable of, the experiments where successful so far, even if the subject had died every time.

His masterpiece would survive; he was sure of that. Leto had everything to make it through the process – and if he did not Danarius would have to face the consequences because he had just one try.

One try.

He shook his head, looking out of the window. The view usually calmed him down but not today. Everything went according to his plans, so why did he feel so unsettled?! He grumbled to himself. Well, the boy would go through a lot of pain, so much was clear due to the recent experiments with other subjects. It was inevitable. And if he was honest, he already had put him through a lot. The constant worry about his mother and sister, the growing isolation from the other slaves and his hunger for tenderness from his master took their price. Leto was strong willed and brave and tough but it took a lot of him to endure that. Somehow it felt… sad.

Danarius leaned on the window frame, watching the training grounds which lay in a fine haze in the early morning. Leto had lost his innocence, that was obvious. Everything went according to his plans. But why doesn’t it feel like victory.

His brow furrowed when anger rose in him. He had no time to deal with such inconvenient feelings. The rise to power or the fall into nothingness – it all laid on one card now and he would not deviate from his chosen path. With that thought he pushed the feelings down, focusing on his documents instead.

 

____________________________

 

Even if the final third of the year approached and the woodlands and fields surrounding Minrathous became more and more copper colored it was still warm and sunny in the capital. Leto felt the weight of his duties more than ever since he found himself almost completely isolated from the other slaves. Nobody dared to speak to him, frightened that he would let the master know and the rumors about his training sessions intimidated the others even more. At first he had not noticed strongly since he never had been a person who socialized much. But now even his family would not speak to him anymore. His mother was not able to forgive him that he seemed to be eager to please a Tevinter magister, the enemy of her people, and Varania stood between him, their mother and her mistress who would punish her for even look at him. At least even Coru tried to avoid close contact because Namu threatened him to do so. He had never felt so alone and the praise of his master became the only light in his life. He worked very hard for that.

The sunlight appeared opalescent to milky when it trickled into the dressing room in the early hours of the morning. Due to the fraction of light in the corners of the silica windows, it left colored speckles on the white silk of Danarius undergarment. The thin robe was part of the formal Magister gown, a garment that consisted of numerous different layers of fabric.

To get dressed for a meeting in the Magisterium meant to get up early to have enough time for the slaves to work the different laces, clasps, and ligaments of the gown. To cope with that much fabric on the body was made possible with discreet spells and enchantments to lighten the weight and cool the skin under the merciless Tevinter sun. To wear such a robe and be able to discuss and negotiate during a meeting of the senate without losing a single drop of sweat was the unmistakable evidence that a Magister bore the title with justification. Otherwise it was not possible to maintain the needed spells while dealing with the other mages, which is why such a robe was a proof of one’s magical abilities.

Any sign of physicality in public was considered a sign of weakness within the upper crust. To appear perfect, sculpture-like and untouchable was highly desirable. In return to sweat or to wear light clothes in less layers in order to better withstand the heat was regarded miserable, since only the non-mages wore such garments. The fewest clothes were granted the slaves but as a visible sign of good taste a wealthy master would dress their slaves in tunics which cover the majority of their bodies. A bare chest or back was considered barbaric in the most occasions, because it was a custom of the societies outside Tevinter, especially the Qunari, who wore not much more than leather trousers and a lot of strings.

Leto stretched himself to place the last part of the gown – a sleeveless brocade mantle, sewn with silver and golden thread – on Danarius shoulders. The coloring and cut of the robes gave him a commanding figure. The brocade mantel on top completed the gown with a purple so gloom that it seemed black without direct sunlight. The layers underneath where finely graduated lighter, slit and draped so that every layer was visible from time to time. The undergarments ivory white shone through only when he moved and accentuated his gestures with a decent glimmer.

Today the Magister had been shaved and groomed by his slaves with extra care. Every fingernail was perfectly filed and polished, every hair laid flawlessly on his head. All that was missing was a splash of priceless fragrance and Leto hurried to bring the flask from the bathroom. Just a little bit of the aromatic scent behind each ear and on each wrist should be enough. Leto uncorked the fine bottle and approached Danarius from behind.

The constant sword training must have increased his senses because somehow he noticed Namu next to him and his foot, suddenly in Leto’s way. Only because of his trained reaction and reflexes the slave managed to lift his step in order to prevent himself from tumbling. He almost had dropped the bottle! Leto shot Namu an aghast glare but before he could come up with anything to say the other boy grimaced and gave him a violent push with both hands.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The hands that hit his shoulders, his feet tripping on the tiles, his body moving forward, the flask lying from his hands, his master’s face when he turned to see what was happening behind him, his eyes growing wide.

The open flask hit him on his chest.

Intense smelling content poured over his garment, the glass crashing into pieces on the floor.

Suddenly the room was filled with a choking smell of way too much perfume.

Leto, who had somehow managed to prevent from falling against Danarius, looked up from the floor, expecting to face the wrath of his master.

But Danarius wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on Namu, who stood there, frozen to his place. Danarius looked at him without saying a word, but his body trembling and his face white with rage. For a moment nothing happened.

The gesture with witch Danarius casted the spell was too fast for Leto to follow but the effect was visible to him in every detail. Violent strokes of lightning illuminated the small chamber and made his hair stand on the end. Namu’s screams endeavored to drown the crashing sounds of electricity out but the sizzling roared louder in Leto’s ears. He held his eyes shut to avoid seeing the other boy cramping on the floor, his skin frying in the storm.

Then it ended.

Hammered into the floor by lightning, the breath squeezed from his body, Namu groaned quietly. He still was alive but nobody would consider him handsome anymore. Danarius glanced at him with disgust.

“Coru. Go and fetch a guard. This piece of dirt shall be brought to the cells”. Coru, who had cowered beside the window looked up, frightened to his bones, barely able to move. He was shaking violently but a shy look in his master’s still raging eyes brought him to his feet. He stumbled out of the chamber, averting his eyes from Namu’s trembling body.

The intense smell of the fragrance mingled with the stench of burnt flesh. Leto strived not to vomit. He rose with shaking legs, watching his master unsettled but Danarius was concerned with the state of his clothing. He sighed morosely and touched the fabric that still smelled like a whole perfumery. He grimaced when he casted a number of spells to eliminate the damage since it was no time and possibility to change into another garment. Then he checked his appearance in the mirror one last time and finally left the dressing room. On his way out he saw to it that his seams would not touch the slave who was still lying on the floor. Leto followed, trying not to look down on the poor sod who previously had been Namu.

_____________________________

 

Hadriana looked in the mirror and watched the elven girl who brushed her long raven hair. The girl had his eyes cast down and tried to be as quiet and cautious as possible. Hadriana ignored her and regarded herself in the reflection. She had dressed for the occasion of her first visit in the magisterium with great care, complementing the colors Danarius would chose as much as underlining her own flawlessness. The hair would flow over her back to show that she was a new apprentice, to cater to the saying that Danarius was about to braid wisdom into her hair.

When Varania was finished Hadriana turned to the door but a quiet knocking on the servant’s entrance held her back. With a careless gesture she ordered Varania to open the door and another elven servant moved in, her head bowed deeply.

“What is it?” Hadriana asked, her impatientness showing quite clearly.

“Mistress, unfortunately I have to inform you that Namu had displeased the master. He is… in a cell.” The slight pause was more than enough to paint a picture in Hadrianas head about what had happened to the valet. She pressed her lips together. Hopefully Leto had been involved too!

 

_______________________________

 

Leto waited for his Master to return. He had finished his other duties and all that was left was to attend to Master after he arrived. It was late and that indicated that Danarius had eaten in the palace, so no dinner must be prepared and no table must been set. Leto kneeled on the floor in Danarius chambers, trying to suppress his nervousness.

His fine ears hearkened into the silence of the mansion. A distant sound appeared in the yonder, nearing the house, silent rustling of feet on the access road. It was followed by quiet voices, Ishmael welcoming the Master at home, Danarius asking if everything was in order. Leto imagined the Magister, accompanied by Ishmael, ascending the broad staircase that led into the mansion, his silken robes whispering silently while he walked over the marble floor, reaching the stairs to the master chambers. The doorknob crunched hardly noticeable, the door-wings opened soundlessly on perfectly oiled hinges. Leto looked up when his Master approached him. The magister slightly raised a brow in silent question.

The slave bowed.

“Welcome home Master. I hope your day was pleasant and successful.”

“Indeed, it was,” Danarius answered, looking down on Leto, removing rings from his fingers. The slave rose to his feet to receive them and clear them away. “And you’ve been waiting for me it seems. Have you been in this room the whole day?” He asked, watching Leto, who started to release Danarius from the heavy mantle on his shoulders. The boy’s eyes were trained on the fabric when he answered.

“I have executed every task I was given. After that I prepared your rooms for the night.” Danarius waited, but nothing more came, though it was visible that the slave had something on his mind. But he did not press, instead let Leto continue to free him from the uncomfortable garment. When it was just the silken ivory white robe enveloping his body he raised a hand.

“This will be sufficient. I’ll stay awake a little longer,” he told Leto and made a small gesture with his hand. “Fetch me a glass of light wine. I require a refreshment.” Leto bowed and did as he was told. Danarius watched him go, sitting down in his usual place, the legs crossed comfortably.

When Leto returned he held a chalice of fine glass, filled with a sweet white wine. He placed it next to Danarius on the side table and watched the Magister touching the jar with his fingernail, cooling the content. A moment of silence unfolded between them.

“What is on your mind?”

Leto startled a bit at the question and eyes flew to Danarius face for a second before the slave turned them down on the floor again. Danarius shifted comfortably in his seat, searching in the slave’s face for an answer before he continued. “You didn’t wait in my chambers for nothing, did you not?”

Leto intertwined his fingers nervously, his eyes on the floor. Then he sank to his knees.

“I… yes. You’re right. I wanted to ask… I want to beg for… Namu’s life. Master.” He said, his voice quiet but steady. Danarius raised his brows in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. To ask for his sister’s wellbeing, to get her out of the hands of Hadriana was what he had expected. But a plea for the life of a slave who had tried to betray him to his superiors – that was something else.

“And why would you do that?” he asked.

Leto remained quiet for a moment. When he started to explain he sounded uncertain what to say.

“His behavior was… inexcusable. But I’m sure that he didn’t want to upset you. He and I had an… disagreement and I think he… wanted you to despise me. He wanted to be special to you Master. He acted out of jealousy,” Leto tried to explain. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did, but somehow he felt that it was partly his fault. And Hadrianas, who had encouraged Namu. But that was something he dared not to voice in front of Danarius.

The Magister listened to Leto’s rambling and stroked his beard thoughtfully. When the slave fell silent, he still said nothing until Leto became visibly nervous. He glanced from under his bangs to his Master’s face and intertwined his fingers to prevent them from trembling. Danarius look revealed nothing of his feelings or judgements, but when he finally spoke, his voice was cold.

“You say that a slave, who pledged himself to me, dared to claim a place in my household, regardless if I would grant it? And you dare to justify that, right into my face, as if you were in a position to give me advice?” Leto froze. His jaw dropped and he hurried to set the record straight.

“No! I would never…!”

“You did!” Danarius interrupted him, ice dripping from every word. “And I say this once: It is not your place!” He rose to his feet, looking down on Leto, who could not believe what he had kicked off. “Even if he had quarrel with you a thousand-fold, it still would be inexcusable to disturb the routine he was subjected to!” He turned and roamed the room, his eyes fixed on Leto, who still kneeled on the floor.

Leto felt desperate. He could not allow his Master to mistake his word in such a way.

“He would not have done it if he hadn’t been instigated!” he tried to explain but the icy glare Danarius gave him silenced him finally. Leto swallowed, afraid that he had overstepped completely. Danarius straightened his figure, an aura of grandeur radiation from him.

“Even if the Archon himself had descended from his throne to personally convince Namu to eliminate a rival, it still would be inexcusable. What I demand of the servants who are granted the honor of waiting on me is absolute loyalty and devotion.” He paused for a couple of seconds to give his words the time to settle in. “I have no use for a slave who elevates himself over his duty and demands things that must only be given as a reward.”

Leto looked down on the floor. His face was hot with shame because he realized that this had not been only about Namu’s transgressions. He, Leto, had received more from Danarius than he had ever thought were possible and still he did not spend a second thought on how his Master must have felt when his servant showed such selfishness. Loyalty was the most important thing between a servant and his Master and Namu had spoiled it with his attack against Leto. His Master had almost been the victim of that attack since it had happened when he was about to leave for a very important event. Leto had only seen the slaves point of view and not considered how disappointed Danarius must have been. He bowed low.

“I apologize, Master.” He said with a stifled voice. The lump in his throat made it hard to express his feelings properly. “I didn’t understand… but now I know how much… how wrong it was. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, Master… I’m so sorry…”

“Enough.” Danarius silenced him with a word. Then he turned to the window, crossing his hands on his back.

Leto shivered but said nothing more. Fear had a firm grip on his heart when he thought about how much he had disappointed the man. A couple of minutes nothing was to be heard than the whisper of the cicadas outside and the silent sizzle of the candle flames. Then a sigh escaped Danarius.

“What I require is a servant I can ultimately rely on. Ishmael is getting old. I’m in need of a slave who is of unquestioning loyalty.” Leto’s eyes grew wide. He struggled for a second but then it was too much to bear.

“I am! I will be loyal to you, no matter what!” he blurted out. “You did so much for me, I could never repay you. Please… take everything I’m able to give. I will not let you down!” he pleaded. Since Danarius stood with the back to him he could not see the wolfish grin that appeared on his Master’s lips when he heard the desperate words. When Danarius turned, his smile had changed to a softer one, hopeful and kind.

“Will you?” Leto nodded violently, desperate to proof his worth to Danarius. The Magister turned to him and graced his hair with his fingertips.

“We will see…”

 

_______________________________________

 

Leto could tell that Danarius was tense. The man seemed to be more in his thoughts than usual, barely interacting with him and Coru except something happened in an improper way. Then a punishment was close at hand. Somehow the upcoming dinner party seemed to stress him a lot and Leto wished he could relief him somehow. But it was absolute inappropriate to suggest something like that and Danarius didn’t reach out for him so he could do nothing more than attend to his duties very carefully.

He currently had stripped the bed in the master room and was about to bring the sheets down for the laundry when he recognized that he had lost a pillow cover on the way to the servant entrance. With his arms full of silk – since the bed was huge the sheets build a vast amount of fabric in his arms – he scurried back to the lost piece, trying to pick it up without dropping the rest.

While he did his best his sensitive ears overheard a low conversation in the next room. The door to Danarius living room was left ajar and Leto could hear him talk to the head of the slaves. It was forbidden to eavesdrop but the slaves did it anyway because on one hand it was the only amusement they had, on the other hand it might come in handy to know what to expect from the masteries. Leto did his best to work quick and silent but when Danarius raised his voice he had no other chance then listening.

“And why is it that you insist on buying another head valet. Coru and Leto seem to be capable to attend to my needs.” Danarius obviously grew impatient and Leto was sure that even Ishmael, who was capable of a lot more in front of the master than any other slave, was bowing by now. The voice of the older man was quiet and polite when he answered.

“Forgive me, Master. I know that the boys are doing their best but none of them is a trained valet and I fear that the service will lack professionalism. Namu had been skilled in many duties and he had not passed them entirely to them. I would not want to see that the service assigned to you would suffer and become inadequate… Especially in the current condition of…”

He wasn’t able to finish his worry’s since Danarius interrupted him with a wave of his hand. Leto asked himself curiously what condition Ishmael had referred to but the conversation went on.

“We need to endure this. And the result of my experiments will grant me the appreciation I deserve. But actually the… afford to buy a highly trained valet is something I would like to avoid.”

“But…”

“This conversation is over.” Leto heard the rustling of Danarius robes as the magister raised from his chair. “I appreciate your concern about my reputation and dignity but we need to accomplish more important tasks. I will join the Minrathous dance again when I have finished my masterpiece.” He went to the door, followed by Ishmael who didn’t press any further on the matter.

Leto hurried to carry the laundry away but the rest of the day he tried to figure out what those mysterious words could have meant.

 

________________________________

 

New slaves arrived at the estate. Six, all of them elves, four men and two women were brought to the barracks and ordered to find a place among the others. It was very unusual for so many new faces to appear in the household and all of the new arrivals seemed somehow determined. No one of them tried to start a talk or to socialize in any way. They were frightening.

The next day everybody had to gather in the courtyard in the evening, right after Danarius had had his dinner. Nervousness swapped from slave to slave since a gathering with the entire household was something absolutely unusual – except someone should receive a punishment.

Leto stood next to the other men since his sister seemed to avoid his company lately. He was sad about that but somehow it might have been better, because to be seen with him made her working for Hadriana not easier. At least as a maid the girl was able to acquire decent skills like serving and tailoring that could help her later in life. That was if Hadriana did not kill her out of wrath one day.

His eyes went to the group of strangers who stood there silently.

The crowd went quiet when Danarius appeared on the balcony that overlooked the place. All eyes went up to him after everyone bowed. The Magister smiled down on the people he owned.

“Be informed that I look for a bodyguard and servant who will be my first in order and well trusted with responsibility and honors. To find a suitable person I will hold a competition, a series of fights to the death.” A breath went through the crowd, every parent feared for their child to be chosen to fight. But the tension somewhat eased when Danarius continued.

“Every slave in my possession is able to participate at their free will. But know the risk. There will be only one champion in the end. The winner will be rewarded in three ways: First he will be made my bodyguard and first servant. Second he will be gifted with powerful abilities that I will bestow on them with a magical ritual.” The tension in the crowd rose again. “And third…” Danarius paused effectively. “The winner will be granted a boon. I will grant them one wish, whatever it is... except their own freedom of course,” he chuckled.

Silent faces looked up to him. Leto didn’t. His eyes laid on the group of strangers, all of them muscular, stern looking slaves from the estates of the magister. They knew, obviously. Leto assumed that the announcement had been made in the lands first to bring the willing participants to the capitol. His eyes went to his family, an iron resolve building in his chest. His mother looked his way, fear in her eyes. He knew that she could read his thoughts.

He would partake in the competition!


	7. Thunder and Lightning

The dinner party was an event Leto had not witnessed in this house before. Every magister of the senate and their heirs, the most recognizable mages from the circle, and a couple of other important people had followed the invitation. It seemed that every one of them had decided to outdo the others in regards of the display of power and wealth. Silk and fine leather garments rivaled with chiffon and brocade and even robes entirely made of feathers or jewels where to be seen.

Every presentable slave of the household had to attend to the guests and even so some of them brought their own servants, bodyguards and valets to the party to service them. After they had consumed a rich and opulent meal on the long table, the evening went on to a more informal atmosphere where everybody wandered around the ballroom and the dining hall, enjoying small pieces of extravagant desserts and liquor.

Leto, who held a silver tray filled with glasses, felt strange between all those nobles. His ears caught bits and pieces of conversation between different people while he served drinks but he could not make out what the meaning was. Somehow everybody was exceedingly polite towards each other, words were decorated with a lot of flourish and compliments. But somehow there seemed to be an underlying pattern that everybody knew about but he was not able to grasp. And to pull others to pieces seemed to know no boundaries.

What became obvious was that a slave to those people was nothing more than a moving piece of furniture. He had to be very attentive to prevent from stumbling when a noble moved suddenly to the side without looking out for a slave carrying a heavy load of refreshments. And his presence however, was no obstacle for them to share rumors about Danarius and whisper behind his back. Leto’s ears grew hot when he overheard a conversation between a magistra and a circle enchanter, discussing that this party obviously was a failing attempt of Danarius to regain his reputation among the leadership circle of Tevinter.

“He is crazy. Everybody knows. A long time he was able to disguise it but he is _obsessed_ with lyrium!” the women said behind her fan, her thin black brows raised high. The man next to her nodded.

“Obviously. And he will never accomplish what he had promised so full-bodied. I’m curious to see how long he will manage to hold his place among the magisters like that.” He said. She answered with a silent laugh and a wink of her unnaturally long eyelashes.

“And we both know who will stand behind him to take his place, do we not Aquinus?” Both snickered. Leto wanted to pour his hold on their feet for badmouthing his master but he knew that this would defame him more than help. So he remained silent and let the guest help themselves to the sweet liquor. But he took a mental note of the name and looking of the two, in order to inform his master about traitorous friends.

 

___________________________________

 

The party went on and most of the guests arrived in a state of drunkenness, the conversations getting louder and heated. Because of the growing heat inside the mansion, due to hundreds of the candles burning, the doors to the garden had been opened and small groups of nobles wandered around the dark green. Some of them disappeared with a personal slave or another noble between the bushes but Leto paid it no mind. He was searching for Danarius, somehow having a bad feeling as if his master was in danger somehow. With so many vipers in his own house it was not in vain to think so and the tight feeling in his chest left Leto no chance than to pretend to be serving while looking out for the magister.

A voice behind him called out his name.

“Leto! Get over here you useless thing!” He bristled under the sound of that peculiar voice but had no other opportunity than to turn around and bow slightly.

“Mistress…” he answered, his eyes cast down to Hadrianas feet. She sniffed disparagingly, obviously annoyed of his presence.

“The Magister, the Maker knows why, asked for you. Go hurry, he wants you in the pavilion under the willow tree.” She waved him away like an insect and he took the opportunity to escape her presence. Why was Danarius searching for him? Was this the reason for his bad feeling?

He hurried through the gardens, avoiding couple of people wandering the ways of white stone. Somewhere in the dark he heard strange, rustling sounds he decided to ignore. When he arrived at the pavilion, his shoulders where tense. Something was wrong.

In this part of the garden it was quiet and only the night birds where to be heard. Leto’s heart was pounding in his chest when his bare feet touched the ivory colored wood. He peered inside the pavilion and spotted a figure, clawed in a rich robe which shimmered in the dark. With silent steps Leto entered the shadowy space, bowing.

“You called for me?” he whispered, unsure what to expect. The person turned to him, swaying a bit.

“Yes…” he smiled. But it was not Danarius! Leto’s eyes grew wide when a man, obviously a magister too, approached him. A hand, decorated with heavy rings, lifted and caressed Leto’s face. 

“You’re a cute one. Like expected…” His voice was thick with alcohol and he swayed a bit. ‘Expected?!’ Leto’s thoughts raced through his head. What did that mean? Where was Danarius? He swallowed and took a step back, but somehow the man pushed him against the wood. Suddenly he was all over Leto, pinning his body with his own.

“Ah, playing hard to get, what?” the man slurred, his grip tightening. “I think I like that…” His mouth was on Leto’s neck and his hands suddenly under his tunic, leaving his skin crawling. Panic kicked in and Leto tried to wriggle himself out of the grasp without hurting the guest too much but the man was tall and surprisingly strong. Somehow Leto felt as if magic held him in place, helpless against the groping hand on his ass. “This is going to be nice, trust me. I’ll reward you very generously…” the man slurred and traced his tongue from Leto’s collarbone over his neck up to his ear. It made his stomach turn.

“Magister Bacchus. I’m flattered that you enjoy the entertainment”. Danarius voice was cool but very polite and caused the guest to turn around. Leto was not able to decide if he should be relieved or frightened now that his master was present but since the man retreated from him he could not help himself but sigh quietly.

“Danarius. It is quite the party my friend,” the guest answered with a heavy tongue, his hand still on Leto’s shoulder, as if he was about to return to him a soon as the distraction was gone. Leto, now able to move again, pulled his tunic back in place. The guest may have overlooked it because of the dark and his own drunkenness but Leto’s light-sensitive eyes clearly noticed the icy glare of Danarius. To his surprise the Magister bowed his head a bit.

“I’m a humble host, my dear friend and it is my only wish to provide the very best for you and your wellbeing.” His eyes fell on Leto as if he recognized him at the very moment. “I’m afraid that this slave will not be able to live up to that expectations. He is of low status and not worth your kind attention.” Before the guest was able to answer Danarius laid his arm around his shoulders and gently leading him away. “Let me find you a servant who is perfectly trained to fulfill you every wish. It would be my honor…”. Confused and drunk the guest nodded and followed the lead, out of the pavilion. His master glanced back for a second, his voice cold. “Attend to my quarters slave before you embarrass me any further.”

Leto bowed and hurried to leave the party behind, his head spinning with the recent events.

 

________________________________________

 

Hadriana watched Leto leave the pavilion and clenched her fists. Maybe Danarius arrived a bit too early. It would have been a sight if he had caught his favorite slave on his knees in front of another man. Magister Bacchus had been an easy target for her plot because he was willing to mount anyone when he was drunk. Old fart that he was he had tried it with her too and she had guided him to the pavilion, promising to send a slave his way who could attend to his needs. It had been easy to arrange that word was send to Danarius about his little whore playing around. A whisper to Ishmael and the innocent question if Danarius knew that Leto had freely joined the Magister in the gardens had been enough. The head of the slaves rushed to Danarius side to inform him and Danarius had indeed left the group he was chatting with. Scandalous!

A small part of her had hoped that her tutor would let it pass, let Leto do whatever he was doing in the gardens because he didn’t truly care. But the man had marched into the dark, fire in his eyes as if someone had stolen his personal staff. Hadrianas mouth was a thin line when she thought about how furious Danarius was because of the little rat.

Well, at least Leto would pay for it. There was no chance that Danarius would give him a pass on that.

 

________________________________________

 

Leto kneeled on the floor. The chamber was dark since the only light came from the moon and the lit windows on the ground floor of the mansion. He waited for hours it seemed. At the beginning the adrenaline and the joy that his Master had found him in time were bubbling inside him and he wanted nothing more to embrace the man – even when this was inappropriate and impossible. But thanking him he could and would and setting things right. But when time passed by other feelings took place inside him.

His Master hadn’t shown any indication that he was mad at the guest. In fact, he had just smiled at him and sent Leto away as if the slave had disturbed the Magister without noticing. Uncertainty rose in him which often was the case when he was dealing with his Master.

‘What do you think? That he will abandon his guests and rush to your side to comfort you like you’re his lover? You’re just a slave!’ he scolded himself. Of course his Master wasn’t able to leave the party just like that. That would be rude and cause tongues to wag.

So he waited. Time went by and Leto shuffled on his knees to prevent his legs from falling asleep. Through the open window he could hear soft sounds of music and quiet crunching of the gravel on the drive under the feet of leaving guests.

It went quiet. Leto’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Soon his Master would arrive in his chambers. A tight feeling in his stomach made him clench his fingers tightly when his sensitive ears heard footsteps outside the door. He swallowed.

The portal opened and Danarius went in. Even in the middle of the night the man gave a straight and powerful impression, his robes whispering silently. He marched through the entrance, closing the doors behind him with a gesture of magic, not bothering with lighting a candle. The moon provided enough light to see the slave, who rose to his feet and bowed slightly.

Leto watched Danarius approach, unable to read his Masters expression. In the dim light the eyes of the man seemed black and his expression very hard. They looked at each other for seconds, nobody saying a word.

The hit caught him by surprise. Leto was tossed to the ground, a hot pain exploding in his cheekbone. He gasped for air, and then he recognized that he was on the floor, his outer tight and elbow burning from the impact as much as his cheek. Danarius stood above him, the hand still raised, his eyes blazing. That had never happened before!

With shaking fingers Leto touched the spot where the struck had hit his face. A drop of blood on his fingers indicated that the ring on his Masters’ finger must have broken the skin. With wide green eyes he looked from his fingers up to the man who towered above him.

“Master…?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me. Not after you behaved like a whore!” Danarius interrupted him violently. “Inviting a guest of mine to fuck you for all the world to see!”

Leto looked at him thunderstruck. Then he scrambled to his feet. He knew that he should stay on his knees, beg for forgiveness and accept the punishment. That’s what he’d been taught since he had become a slave. But he couldn’t! The thought of Danarius considering him undue was too much to bear. Even if he would hit him again, he had to try to convince him of his innocence!

 “Master, that isn’t true. I didn’t invite him! I was looking for you and thought to find you in the pavilion but he was there and then he grabbed me…!” Danarius seemed equally dumbfounded when the slave rose to his feet shakily, reaching out for him.

“Silence!” Danarius demanded harshly. In the very second Leto recognized that his Master was drunk. Not only that he was swaying a bit, also his always perfectly combed hair hat gotten into disorder and his cheeks were flushed red. Leto never had seen him like that. Now that he stood right in front of him, he could smell drinks, much stronger than wine. That explained the lack of self-control.

Leto swallowed. Without his usual self-restrain Danarius could easily kill him without intend.

But before Leto could reconsider his idea of speaking his mind though, Danarius grabbed him. His fingers intertwined in the slaves’ hair and in the next moment he was pressed against his Masters’ hard frame. The smell of alcohol became strong and almost overwhelming when Danarius pressed his mouth on Leto’s.

The boy, dumbfounded and scared, was unable to move a limb. One second ago he had feared that the Magister would punish him with lightning and now he found himself in the man’s arms, groping hands on his hips and ass, teeth on his lips.

Danarius seemed to be unaware of that or he simply didn’t care. His tongue forced his way into Leto’s mouth while his free hand grabbed the boy’s ass more firmly. He squeezed the cheek, pressed Leto’s lap against his groin and Leto could feel his Masters private parts through the robes. Panic rose in him. Even if he secretly had wished that his Master would kiss him one day, he hadn’t wanted _this_. It was harsh and punishing and his Masters groping hands hurt him in more than one way.

Danarius pushed him backwards, until his behind hit the table where the Magister used to have his dinner. Leto gasped when his Master pressed him down on the wood without hesitation, his drunken grip tearing the shoulder of the tunic open. While bending over him to claim his mouth again, Danarius tried to wrench the underwear down Leto’s hips. In this position with his groin between Leto’s legs it wasn’t possible and the slave whined in pain when Danarius tried to rip the fabric apart.

“N… no, Master, please… no…” he whimpered stiffly, tears gathering in his eyes. He dared not to fight his Master but raised his hands protectively.

Danarius stopped. He lifted his head, looking down on the wailing slave beneath him. His face twitched. At first Leto thought that he would hit him again in order to silence him, but then the man withdraw from Leto as if he had burned himself. He stumbled a step backwards and bumped against the chair.

With a breath through his nose, Danarius sat down. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked and his voice sounded tired. The man put a hand over his eyes and rubbed down over his face, looking into nothingness as if he tried to figure out what had happened.

Leto tried to get a hold on himself and sat up slowly.

With shaking fingers, he straightened his torn tunic that had been sliding down his shoulder and sniffled silently. He watched Danarius and tried to decide what to make of the situation. His Master had frightened and hurt him and his body was still trembling from the assault. But sitting there like that he looked worn out and at a loss. Somehow it affected Leto that the man who always seemed so confident and in control was now completely confused. 

“Master…?” he whispered but he got no answer.

He thought about what to do. Should he leave? But he didn’t want to. Somehow he wanted to comfort the man in front of him who seemed so upset but he didn’t know how.

But eventually he made a decision.

Slowly he slipped forward and slide from the table crawling onto Danarius lap. Leto moved very carefully in order to withdraw as soon as his Master displayed any sign of disapproval. He was careful to not touch his Master’s groin with his but to stay on his tights, his hands on his sides.

Halfway he expected to be thrusted to the floor, but Danarius did nothing but watch him with an unreadable expression. Leto’s heart began to beat very fast when he leaned his forehead on Danarius shoulder. He inhaled the light scent of eau de cologne and shivered slightly.

“What are you doing?” Danarius’ voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. Leto could feel it as a breath on his naked shoulder and licked his dry lips in response.

“I don’t know…” he answered as quiet as Danarius had asked and looked into his Masters eyes. Their lips were only inches apart. “I just… really… care about you…” Leto whispered and his face showed all the emotion he dared not to voice.

When their lips touched it was nothing like before. No harsh demands or forced entering, just a soft kiss. When they parted, something entwined between them, something that would not be possible in the light of day with the differences between Master and slave. But here, in the dark, for a couple of hours, they were just people, comforting each other. Leto leaned in again, touching Danarius lips with his. The kiss expanded softly, a quiet sipping and kissing, wet lips moving tenderly against each other. 

Danarius hands found Leto’s tights and stroked over them until they reached the hips, pulling him in more closely. Leto’s fingers hesitantly touched Danarius shoulders but when the contact grew closer they caressed the back of the man, scratching slightly over the fabric of his robe. Both where entangled in the feeling of closeness and accordance with each other, rocking slightly with the movements of the other, swaying like seaweed in a breeze.

Leto broke loose from Danarius lips to gather his breath and the man roamed his mouth over the sensitive skin on the slave’s neck. Leto’s Fingers entangled in Danarius’ hair, his groin pressing shamelessly against the man’s crotch. The situation heated up further when Danarius pulled down the torn tunic in order to lick over Leto’s chest. The boy cherished every touch he was given, moaning deep in his throat when Danarius’ mouth found his nipple.

Suddenly Danarius stopped. His eyes found Leto’s in the dark, looking up to the heated face of the slave above him. Their heavy breathing was the only audible sound in the quiet mansion when he sank down in the slightly glowing eyes of the elf. Leto watched him, his fingers caressing the cheek of the man. Then he bowed down, catching Danarius lips again with his own.

Neither of them noticed how they made it to the bedchambers but somehow they ended in the silken sheets, entangled limbs and roaming hands. A trail of abandoned pieces of Danarius’ precious garments lead to the bed, accompanied by Leto’s tunic and underwear.

Leto moaned heatedly into the kiss when Danarius fingers caressed him between his tights. He was too much captured in the feelings the man awoke in him to explore the other body with his hands and lips thoroughly, just caressing everything he could reach. Somehow Danarius ended between his legs. A strange sensation claimed Leto’s attention, a feeling of something pushing slowly inside him, stretching him and filling his heat. With wide eyes he gazed into Danarius face above him, watching his lust filled expression while the feeling continued. His confused mind was not able to grasp what was happening and his conscience shattered into pieces when Danarius claimed his mouth with a fevered kiss. A slight rocking between his tights send shivers of pleasure through his body. Somehow he adjusted to the sensation, moving with the other man. The heat expanded, rushed through his veins, set him on fire like nothing had before in his life. Danarius hands where on him, between his legs, somehow increasing the feelings, until nothing was left of Leto than a shivering, moaning mess. He held tight on Danarius’ shoulders when all the feelings ran together in that sweet spot of his, as if all the fire in his body converged in that one single place… and then exploded. His body arched, a scream ripped from his lips when the heat overflowed him like a wave. Drowning in the pleasure of the orgasm, Leto fell down into the silken sheets and then there was nothingness.


	8. The Competition

Danarius felt unsettled. He sat in his usual chair, staring out of the window but without seeing anything. How had that happened?! What had gotten into him?! He wasn’t able to describe what had driven him to what he had done the last night. Not only what he had done, but specially what he had felt!

Because he was a scientist he approached the issue with reason and logical thinking.

He had been drunk, that much was true. He was pretty convinced that nobody had recognized that. Even intoxicated, Danarius had a firm self-control at his disposal and he didn’t recall any odd comments on his behavior.

However, a closer look revealed that this was something too that was highly unusual for him. Even if he enjoyed a glass of wine in the evening, he never drank so much that it could affect his cautiousness. To let his judgement be disturbed by a toxic substance was not only stupid, in front of the fellow mages it had been wanton. So why had he been drinking so much?

The fact that he had found Leto with a fellow Magister had made him furious. Danarius felt ashamed as he became aware of that.

In the light of the day it was absolutely obvious that Leto would never approach such a man for whatever reason. Not only his character spoke against that but his body’s condition. To be discovered was something he tried to prevent with all his might. But somehow the accusation that the slave had been about to entertain a guest willingly had something snapping in Danarius. When he rerun what he had seen in the shadow of the pavilion it was clear that Leto actually had been harassed by the man. But Danarius had felt offended. He was his, and nobody was to touch him, for whatever reason.

Unable to attack the guest – that would have been rude and damaging to his reputation – Danarius had just tried to get Leto out of there. Things like that were to be managed discretely.

But that had had no effect on his fury regarding Leto himself. He had been about to punish him harshly that night. At least until he had been right in front of the slave. And then…

Danarius shook his head. What had gotten into him?

When he awoke in the morning he had found Leto dressing himself quietly. The slave did not mention the night before and neither did Danarius. When he came back, he arranged the breakfast as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

It had not been part of his plan to develop any kind of feelings for the slave! He was meant to be a tool, an instrument to gain power! But when he thought about him, he found himself drawn to these big green eyes, that looked at him with awe and adoration. Leto was something else. Honest and dedicated and ambitious in his will to please him. Danarius had formed him according to his will in more than one way and Leto had exceed his expectations. Was it that surprising that he felt attached to the slave? He was _his_ creature and after the ritual he would be utterly. His masterpiece.

Danarius hummed to himself when he drew this conclusion.

He straightened his back. However, he needed to see to it that something like last night would not happen again. The tournament would take place in a few days to make way for the last part of the ritual and after that Leto had to be subjected to the process of the lyrium marking. Subsequently it would be easier to deal with the situation, of that he was sure.

 

_____________________________________

 

If someone would have asked what Leto would have expected from a night with Danarius he hadn’t known how to answer since he never had dared to believe it would truly come to this.

After he awoke in the magisters bed in the early morning he had been laying there between the silken sheets, unable to grasp what had happened. His feelings were a spinning mixture of smooch, nervousness and confusion. Danarius sleep was deep and the magister had nod stirred the tiniest bit when Leto slowly rose from the bed and dressed himself quietly.

Before he left he took a long look on the sleeping man, trying to figure out what the last night meant, how he was supposed to behave from now on and… if his feelings were returned. But it served no purpose standing there and yearning for a sleeping man, so he straightened his back and went to the kitchens. The rest of the day went over in a haze and Leto focused on his tasks to prevent his thoughts from lingering on the last night.

How would that affect his relationship with Danarius? The man had been drunk but… there had been something between them, Leto was sure of it. Maybe the man would talk to him in the evening. Since everybody was exhausted after the effort of the festivities it was likely that the magister would stay at home.

After dinning in private Danarius rose from his chair and the servants started to clear the table. Danarius didn’t went to his usual chair but waited by the windows, his back turned to them. Leto knew what he was about to say before he did it.

“Coru, you may leave. Leto, stay with me.” He ordered in a neutral voice and Leto felt his heart beat speeding up a bit. He hoped that Danarius might clear the air between them, explain what it meant what they had done…

Danarius waited until Coru had left before he approached Leto with cautious steps. Leto watched his movement. Maybe he was not in a mood to talk, maybe he would…

He blinked at the vial Danarius held in his direction. It was a tiny bottle, usually used for potions and the content consisted of a clear light golden-brown liquid.

“Drink it.” Danarius said with an even, indifferent voice. Leto’s eyes roamed his face, looking for a hint but Danarius expression was blank and neutral. Something knotted in Leto’s stomach but he took the vial nevertheless. The contents smell was nothing he recognized, a little spicy like herbs. When he downed it, it left an oily feeling on his tongue.

Nothing happened. Leto watched Danarius with uncertainty but the man was looking away. Somehow he seemed upset. When he opened his mouth it became obvious what was bothering him.

“I need you to report it to me when you… bleed the next time.”

Leto felt his face heating up in shame. His eyes were pinned down to the ground and he swallowed heavily. That was what was bothering Danarius. Obviously.

Somehow it hurt. The fact that Danarius’ first and maybe only concern was that Leto might receive his child… but now that the thought arose, Leto felt unsettled about that too. What if he _was_ … well.

“Yes Master” he answered with a low voice.

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this.

 

_____________________________________

 

Hadriana felt a hint of satisfaction when she saw Leto emerge from the master’s study that day. The slave’s cheek was swollen and the cut indicated that Danarius ring had done his work well. But not the obvious sign of disapproval made her cheer inside but the pathetic figure the slave made, his head down like it should be, and his face sad and humble. Finally, Danarius had shown the rat were his place was and maybe it was only a matter of time until he abandoned him completely. Without this concurrence the path was open for her to reach for more power.

Hadriana walked over to the window and watched the hustle and bustle on the courtyard. Many slaves were freed from their duty in order to train for the competition. Hadriana picked on her thumbnail. Why on earth was Danarius holding this silly competition? She knew that he was almost bled dry in regard to wealth and only his name and status as magister prevented him to fall to the ground completely. What was he trying to gain from this event that costed so much that some of the slaves would need to go hungry in the weeks after? Maybe he planned to bet on one of the competitors. That was not something unusual since the Minrathous’ elite loved to watch and bet on fights. Some magisters increased their wealth immensely with a skilled warrior in the arena.

Even if she had no idea what Danarius plan was, Hadriana was not questioning his sanit. Since she lived here and learned from him, she had seen what Danarius was capable of, and to her own shock she had started to admire him somehow. He was not only skilled in all the magical arts, but his magic seemed effortless like breathing. Furthermore, he was a true scholar and knew of secrets way beyond everything she had ever held possible. Besides, he was very aware of the Minrathous game of power and mind. On some occasions he had taken her to the circle or the magisterium and showed her he little signs and indications and what they meant. There was nothing he didn’t know and his icy soul and brilliant mind was something she could truly look up to.

So if this man did such a thing like spending all his fortune on lyrium and the rest of it on an obviously useless tournament… there must be a reason!

Hadriana’s nail split. She looked down on it and frowned. Why wasn’t he telling her? He had been satisfied with her progress and indicated that she could become his heir, since he had no children of his own – take this mother! Way more than a _concubine_! – and he started to introduce her into the true secrets of magic and power. But whenever she asked about his project or the tournament or something like that he had gone silent. It was enough to drive her mad!

“Varania! Bring me the dark cape, silly thing.” Hadriana snapped at the elven girl that tidied her chambers. She would find out soon. The thing would come to an end soon and Danarius would reveal what was happening behind his curtains. And maybe the little rat would be lying dead on the road’s side.

 

____________________________________

 

One month later the day of the tournament arose.

Danarius had seen to it that the event took place in the main arena of Minrathous, for all the city to see. Occurrences like these were common in Tevinter, often as magical combat, but the battle of non-mage slaves was something enjoyable for the citizens too.

Because of the never-ending war between the Tevinter empire and the Qunari as much as the tense situation with the southern regions of Thedas, shows of military strength and swordsmanship were important parts of the city culture. Even if they were displayed by slaves. And the fact that it was a match of sudden death made it even more enjoyable for the spectators.

The benefit for him was twofold since Danarius not only gained a champion who had proofed that they were willing and able to kill for their master but at the same time he showed his wealth and goodwill to the population of Tevinter. To hold a tournament was a show of taste and hospitality and thus good to maintain his status among the magisters. Nobody would assume that he was broke.

Twenty participants where listed and the fights were planed do last until the death of one of the opponents. To gain the price one needed to fight and kill four other slaves in single combat with a weapon of choice. Leto fought with a two handed sword, a custom made version for his smaller elven frame. Danarius had granted him this advantage on the forefront as a boon for his dedication and services – the household waged their tongues about that behind Leto’s back and his mother and sister bowed their heads in shame.

Danarius felt unsettled. All the subjects of his experiments had died. Even the elven ones. The process was so torturous that the subject perished jut from the immense pain and agony. Leto could rise as champion from the tournament. But that he survived the ritual wasn’t certain.

Danarius paced his room. He felt his stomach clench with nervousness and no spell in the world could make him think that this was simple anticipation of being near his final goal. And this should be his main concern! Soon it would be time to open the tournament. Leto and the other participants had already left for the arena to get prepared for the fight. Danarius tried to calm but somehow he couldn’t get a grip on himself. It was to go mad! Why was he not able to strip of these confusing feelings of worry and fear?!

Suddenly he saw the boy’s face. His green eyes that had this expression lately. Longing and sadness and wishful thinking – Danarius had worked hard to gain this from him, to make him into clay in his skillful hands. And now that Leto was about to accomplish everything for his master, giving his heart and his soul and his life willingly… Danarius felt no triumph. He felt… hollow.

They had never talked about what had happened that one night. Danarius had refrained from touching him again, had overseen the subtle hints the slave had dropped in his presence to show his willingness and availability. Leto had never overstepped, never touched his master inappropriately or spoken out of turn. But the longing in his eyes had shown how he felt and how much he had wished to be with Danarius again.

Danarius shook his head. He needed to focus. The game was in full swing and it was too late to change his mind now. And why would he? He had spent years of his life to accomplish what was now within his reach. And Leto needed to fight and to win. If he doesn’t he wasn’t worth a magisters attention and care!

 

_________________________________________

 

Leto waited in a sparse room within the arena. It was early winter and that was a great luck because to fight under the summer sun would have been torture. The weather in Minrathous had been nice lately and yesterday it had been dry all day despite the rainy season. But in a city full of mages minor changes in local weather was not a big issue. At least he would not have to fight knee-deep in mud. 

The boy tried to contain the tremble of his hands. His eyes trailed over the bindings that were supposed to prevent his skin from chafing on the swords handle. He had no idea against who he might fight later. The list of the contestants had not been revealed to the participants. Would it be a fellow slave? Someone he knew? Or a guard who would fight for a better stance in his master’s household?

Every contestant had his own booth with no possibility to contact the other. Since Leto would fight next he had been brought to a small room, connected to dark hallway. This path led to the arena. Both fighters would enter the sand on opposite sides, under the view of all of Minrathous. Leto had seen it once in his life when he had accompanied Danarius to one of the fights. He tried not to think about it because he feared he might not be able to move at all when he was under surveillance of the whole city. And that would be his death.

A slave entered with a bowl of water. Leto cleaned his face, chest and arms with a towel to appear flawless under the eyes of the free people. His outfit consisted of a leather skirt with metal plates to shield his tights, braces around his under arms and sandals that Leto left aside – as elf he was used to walk bare footed and was not about to change that habit now.

He swallowed when the slave retreated and the door to the hallway opened. It was time.

Leto’s feet felt like stone when he walked down the path that lead to victory or failure. It was quiet and the only sound his gunning heart and the silent footsteps. Then his sensitive ears caught distant noises. The more steps he made the louder grew the sound until he could make out what it was.

A cheering crowd.

Light at the end of the hallway he was walking through.

Sunlight and cheering and stomping feet and the smell of blood.

Leto entered the arena. His feet touched sand.

He looked up and squinted into the brightness, looking around and facing the mass of people on the ranks who seemed to be ecstatic and wild. He shivered and had no idea what made him step further into the round when everything in him wanted to run and hide and vanish.

Twos laves who had raked the sand in the middle of the large round retreated but despite their efforts red blotches were visible there.

Someone with a magical enhanced voice announced Leto as fighter and praised his strength and will to honor his master. Leto looked up to the magisters rank and found him there, Danarius, in all his glory, looking down on him. Leto’s eyes hung on him and the slave tried desperately to remember why he was here, why he was willing to fight, why it meant so much to him to please this man who had not touched him or looked at him for the last month but handled him like a living piece of furniture. Leto’s heart hurt and he was about to lose his mind when…

… he saw his family.

Varania and his mother sat among the slave ranks in the first row. Master Danarius must have allowed them to abandon their duties and watch the fight of their son and brother. Or maybe forced them to do so since his mother was crying, her face white as a sheet. Varania clung to her with huge, frightened eyes. Leto’s eyes were glued to them and he tried to beg their forgiveness, but he had no other chance to save them than to fight. If there was any chance for his sister to grow up in a save place, Leto would do anything to give this to her.

So fight he would! Whoever they would throw against him, how much pain and agony he might face under their hands. He would fight and he would win! His hand gripped the sword tight and he felt adrenaline rush through his veins, erasing fear and anxiety and leaving only iron determination behind.

The door in front of the seats of his family opened and his opponent walked into the arena. He was battered and trembling and provided a pathetic figure but Leto recognized him at the very first look.

It was Namu.


	9. The ritual

Leto was carried from the field.

Danarius let his breath escape and recognized that he had held it. He looked around. Nobody seemed to have recognized it.

The slave had done it. He had killed his last opponent. The broken sword useless at his feet, he had done it with bare hands, ignoring the bleeding wounds and broken ribs, his whole being focused on the fight to the death. His last opponent had been a human guard, taller, stronger and way more used to his weapon. But he had stood no chance against Leto’s wrath.

Danarius shivered with anticipation.

He had created a warrior.

His next step would be to create a legend.

He stood and announced the end of the tournament, declaring the slave Leto the winner and his boon – to lift his mother and sister to liberati – granted. The crowd cheered. The fights had been legendary and the city would tell their tales for a long time.

And Danarius’ name with it.

 

___________________________________________

 

When Leto came to his senses the elven mage bowed over him and her glowing magic healed his wounds.

He was alive.

The thought trickled into his mind slowly, growing roots and blooming to the recognition that he had won.

He had won the tournament.

Leto closed his eyes and relaxed his hurting body. The horror was over – even if the pictures and sounds would stay with him forever. He felt a strange numbness inside him as if something of him had died in the arena too, drowned in the endless fights and all the blood he had shed. But he had done it. His mother and sister were safe and free and his master satisfied. He would become his bodyguard, his first under the slaves and maybe, again worthy of his affection.

 

Leto’s family was already gone when he came back from the healing. He had no possibility to say goodbye, neither to his mother not to his sister. But maybe it was better that way. He had not done it to receive their thanks and he was sure that he could not have stand their tears of farewell.

Or their disapproval.

Both had been forced to watch every single of his fights, and that it was a burden, had been visible to him in the way his mother had sat there, pale and tense, keeping Varania close, to spare her from the cruelest moments. But she had seen enough too. Enough to fear her brother, who had risen from the bloodshed of the arena again and again. A foreigner, a monster…

Somehow the horror of it all was in his head only. His body felt numb in a strange way. Even the fact that he might not see them for a very long time wasn’t something that brought tears to his eyes. He felt detached from it all in a strange way, as if his family belonged to the life of another person. Another Leto. The one before the tournament.

Ishmael informed him that his mother had received the liberati boon, a starting capital and the proof that she and her daughter were slaves no longer. Furthermore, he told the young slave that he himself became legendary among the citizens of the city. A small elven boy, slim and weak, but fierce and stronger than the mightiest warrior. Master Danarius was proud.

Leto heard his words but they were hollow and meaningless to him. He had achieved what he had wished for. But somehow he had lost everything on the way. He had killed so many fellow slaves, some of them with bare hands, and every time something in him had died too. Hadriana was still there and she was still hating him, maybe even more now that he would become more close to the magister.

Magister Danarius.

Who had not seen him since the fights. Who had not visited, like the last time he had been badly injured. Who had not given a single hint that Leto did well in his eyes. His hands clenched to fists. But that was not important. Leto had achieved what he had been ordered to. That was enough.

 

________________________________

 

Hadriana turned in her new dress. It was dark purple and black, Danarius’ colors. Her long hair glistened with bands of diamonds and silvers, the extravagant hairdo a sign that she had been assigned to the status of a full-fledged apprentice.

Soon she would get a new maid and become even more beautiful and impressive.

Hadriana _Danarius_.

Her mother had been speechless when she had received the news about Hadrianas progress. As the heir of the Magister, his seat in the Magisterium would be hers when he died. Nobody had ever expected her to rise this far. To become a concubine, yes, a plaything to be dolled up and held close. To bear the children of the man that his wife couldn’t. But Danarius had no interest in that at all. Hadriana touched the expensive necklace, a heritage piece from Danarius family that adorned her growing cleavage. What a relive to know that she would not be forced into playing that role for him. The thought of his hands on her had nauseated her, but meanwhile she was sure that Danarius would never approach her like that.

To think that she had suspected him to have an affair with his little rat.

No, not him. He was pure and mighty and wise. He would not dirty himself with touching a slave for the purpose of simple pleasure. She was even sure that he had no bodily urges at all. All he did was bound to lure Leto into being his willing subject.

‘But why all that effort? Why not just ordering him to this and that and punishing if he didn’t comply?’ she thought. But then she shook her head, making the hairdo glisten and shine for her in the mirror.

Soon he would accomplish his goal and exercise the mysterious ritual he planned for weeks and told her not even the slightest word about. And for that he needed the slave.

‘Maybe it is some kind of advanced blood magic’ she thought, ‘a kind where the blood of a loyal warrior is needed for.’ She had heard of that. It would make everything easier. The thought of Leto as a lifeless empty shell on the floor send a nice shiver down her spine.

Hadriana shook her head again and looked at herself, smiling.

 

________________________________

 

Less than a week later it was SOWEIT.

Leto was brought into the gloomy chamber, deep within the basement of Danarius mansion. He never had been here before, it was forbidden to come down here for everybody except the Master, his apprentice and Ishmael. His bare feet made quiet sounds on the cool stone. The only light came from magical torches, the green flames casting a ghostly shine on everything.

Leto’s head had been shaved and the air felt unusual cool behind his ears. Nobody had explained to him why, but that was not something he had expected in the first place. He wore only a light tunic and shivers ran down his spine.

Five days had passed since the tournament. Five days where he had rested on soft pillows, a servant seeing to all his needs. Five days for rest and recovery of his powers before the ritual. Five days without any contact to his master.

Leto’s stomach clenched tight at the thought that he would see Danarius soon. Had it all been  just imagination? The tender feelings, the affection and care he had felt coming from the man? Was it all forfeit now? And if so – why?

Ishmael escorted him down the hallway to a thick and magically sealed door. The ritual chamber. Inside Danarius was waiting. Leto took a deep breath. In fact, it made no difference if magister Danarius had abandoned him, he still felt loyalty to him. The man had held his end of the bargain, had trained Leto and let him grow strong, taught him to fight and in the end, freed his family from the enslavement. He would not step back and let all that become a guilt on his shoulders. Even if Danarius eyes would never lay with affection on him again. He would stand tall and endure it.

Leto steeled himself and held his bald head high when he stepped inside.

 

___________________

 

The room was small and round, all of it stone and illuminate by the green veil-fire. Danarius stood in the center of the room, a simple black robe with no undergarments flowing down his angular frame, the silk gleaming in the dim light. He watched the elven boy approach with no hint of fear or hesitancy. He regarded him with a calm look before he turned his head slightly to Ishmael.

“Leave us.” Danarius said and Ishmael followed his order after a short bow.

The magister regarded Leto who stood in front of him, his head high and his eyes fixed on a point right from Danarius head. A posture of a slave, who was not sure what was coming his way.

He looked well. Rested. His body was young and healthy. He would make it.

Danarius eyes narrowed lightly and he tapped his fingers on his leg nervously. As soon as he became aware of it, and stopped and stepped closer.

“Leto…” he said and the slave looked at him for a second. His face was blank but in that short look Danarius had seen that it was still there – the bond between them. A warm feeling rose in his chest. But despite this, the ritual had to proceed.

“I need you to undress.” Danarius said quietly and Leto hesitated not the blink of an eye. He loosened the fabric of the belt and shrugged of the tunic. With care he put it aside before he stepped out of his loincloth. Danarius could see him swallow slightly when the cool air let goosebumps rise on his naked skin. His eyes raked over the flawless body that soon would be marked by his magic entirely.

“Now… come over here.” He led him to an altar, a ritual stone, that was crafted by powerful enchanters ages ago. The runes were often filled with the blood of slaves.

But not today.

Danarius needed no blood magic to perform the ritual. Next to the altar stood a table with five lyrium potions on it. Danarius would drink them when his magic became week during the strenuous work. The rest of the lyrium that was needed for the process was stored on the other side. His light blue glow seemed to enhance the altar further.

“I need to bind you to prevent you from twitching.” Danarius voice was soft and friendly and even he could hear the hint of sadness within. Leto’s eyes met his and stayed there a second longer than before, questions in his look.

“Yes. The process will be hurtful. But you will endure it, I’m sure.” Danarius answered the unspoken question and without knowing why, he raised his hand and caressed Leto’s soft cheek. The boy closed his eyes and nestled his face into the touch. Then he stepped back and laid back on the altar, his hands raised above. Danarius put the cuffs around the small wrists and secured them to the stone. He had seen to it that they were padded, to prevent from chafing the sensitive skin. His other subjects had been bleeding terribly because they had try to wrench free during the torture. The leather sat close on Leto’s skin without influencing the blood stream to his fingers.

When he had closed the second cuff, Danarius was unable to put his hands away like he had planned. Something kept him there. He looked into Let’s big green eyes, that looked back with so much reverence and affection. Danarius swallowed.

His fingers slid down from the cuffed wrist to the boy’s elbow, over the smooth skin of his upper arm to his neck. Their eyes meet again before Danarius reverently raked his look over Leto’s stretched body, lithe and strong and beautiful. When he was finished with him Leto would be perfect.

But until then, he would have to endure the greatest pain, torture even, way worse than the arena. Worse than anything he could imagine. Danarius face scrunched up by the thought. Leto watched him in silence, trusting him, obeying his command without a single doubt.

“Leto…” Danarius repeated and his pale hand slid over the boy’s olive colored chest back to his neck. Leto gasped, his eyes half closed. Without knowing what he was doing, Danarius bowed low. The silk of his gown rested on the warm skin, raising and falling with the boy’s breath.

Their lips touched.

Soft and tender at first. Danarius nipped on Leto’s lips as if he was drinking dew from soft rose petals. The boy’s tongue darted out, touching the man’s mouth. Danarius opened his lips and both of them dove into the kiss as if there was no tomorrow.

A small part of Danarius tried to warn him, to tell him how inappropriate this all was, that he should maintain his professionalism and distance. But he pushed it aside and climbed onto the altar, his robes covering Leto’s naked body under him. He kissed the boy as if he was his air to breath, devouring him, hungry and merciless and Leto gave all of it back with full force. He tugged on the chains and whined in frustration because he was not able to touch the man in front of him, but must lay there and take what he could get.

Their breath caught while it was impossible to separate from each other, the need to touch, to taste so strong that it hurt. How had he managed to stay away from this creature, that – if he was truly honest with himself – had haunted him the last month day and night. This taste, the soft sounds Leto made under his lips, his breath on Danarius skin. He needed it like a flower needs the sun and had deprived them both of it. The voice in his head that said ‘dangerous, stop’ was fleeting, like a flame without air, growing smaller and smaller, until it extinguished.

Danarius became more and more desperate and Leto did follow him on the foot. The man’s hands wandered down the boy’s body, caressing his firm flesh with strong strokes, his fingernails leaving red marks on his hips and arms. Leto arched into the touch, tearing his mouth away from Danarius, a broken “Master…” perling from his wet lips while his hips bucked upwards.

Danarius kissed down his neck, over his collar bone until he could take one of the dark nipples between his lips to suck on it. Leto moaned, writhing under him in his need to get closer, to get more. None of them said a single word except the name or title of the other, as if those words were a prayer to a god who looked down on them in this very moment. The last moment to share.

 

_____________________________

 

Leto tried to draw breath but his whole body felt as if it was on fire. His master’s hands, his lips, his body pressing to his own frame made burned down every conscious thought and left only the need behind. He pulled on his restraints but they gave no way. So he was forced to lay back and endure the assault without giving anything back.

The scorching lips wandered down the body until they reached the place between Leto’s legs where he was so sensitive and so hungry for his master. Danarius licked into the wet heat, making Leto gasp and arch into the touch, opening his legs wide for him. He was devoured by the hot mouth, when Danarius used his tongue to push in and out of Leto’s entrance before he resumed to licking and sucking his swollen pearl. Fingers opened Leto up further while Danarius tasted him to his heart’s desire. This was different to what he had experienced before, not the controlled and distant master that had kissed him between his legs on the desk of his study. This was not the magister, who had touched him and awoke his body. This was the man he had kissed in that faithful night. A man with a burning desire inside him that set them both aflame until nothing of ashes was left.

 

______________________________

 

Danarius raised his head, looking at Leto’s flushed face. The boy was panting heavily, his lips wet and his eyes shining with lust and desire. He moved up, pressing his body between Leto’s legs and claiming his mouth again. Only a few moves of his hand were necessary to free himself from the robe and to position his leaking cock between Leto’s spread legs. All caution was gone, all thoughts about becoming to entangled in this lost to him, when he pushed inside.

Leto’s body welcomed Danarius without restraint. Their mouths were melded into each other and the man’s hands held onto his boy with a strong grip. Moaning and grunting together in this perfect, endless moment Danarius and Leto fell apart, together on the altar.


End file.
